Ember's Tale, Part I: Heritage
by Celamity
Summary: It all started with some bandits, an iron shortage, and, before that, two dead assassins in Candlekeep. And as Ember unravels the truth behind the plot that has ensnared her, another truth reveals itself: her own nature. A walkthrough of BG1, originally posted at the Gamejag Attic 2006-2007.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_He's dead. _

She had entered the priest's quarters in search of Tethtoril; he spent many a lazy morning there, talking with the Loremaster, and Firebead had asked her to retrieve a scroll from him. What she had found had not been the priest and the elderly schoolar, but rather a man dressed in smelly, ragged clothes, who had tried to kill her. She vaguely remembered dodging the first swing of his dagger, but the rest of the attack was a panicked blur.

Her attacker lay on the priest's floor, his glazed eyes staring emptily at the ceiling. Her dagger was embedded in his chest; she didn't know how that had happened. A pool of blood was forming under the body.

She ran for the door.

Parda found her as she crouched behind a rainwater barrel, throwing up her breakfast. "What is wrong, child?" he asked worriedly. "Are you ill? You cut yourself above the brow, there," he said, gesturing at her forehead without quite touching it.

"Oh, Parda!" she half sobbed. "There was a man in there, he smelled like the stables, and he - and he tried to kill me, it was horrible..."

Parda frowned. "I sensed something like this might happen. You must hurry; Gorion bade me find you. You are to equip yourself for travel and meet him at the library, near the front entrance. Bring your sword, he said, but he did not tell me why. Here, child, drink this," he said, and handed her a vial filled with a pale bluish liquid.

She touched her forehead and winced with pain. Her fingertips came away with some blood on them. "Thank you, Parda," she said, and accepted the healing potion. She drank it and felt the pains in her forehead, her arms, her entire body give way to a cooling sensation. "Tell Gorion I'll come as soon as I can."

Parda nodded, bowed and returned to the library. She glanced at the priest's house. _He's dead, and I killed him._ She shuddered.

She ran home to the inn without looking back.

-.-.-

The path past the barracks might be the longer of her two options, but at least it meant she didn't have to look at the priest's house again. She'd prepared as best she could; her sword hung at her side, and Winthrop had helped her find some leather armour in addition to filling her pack with all kinds of items that'd be useful on a trip. Her hand drifted nervously to the hilt of her sword. She'd practiced with it for so long, but she'd never ever had to hurt anyone with it. _Why did Father say I had to bring it? What is going on?_ She picked up her pace, all but running down the path.

A man in a brown shirt was leaning against the bunkhouse. "'Ere there," he called out to her. "You're Gorion's little whelp, aren't ya? Yeah, you match the description. You don't look so dangerous to me."

She stopped in her tracks and looked straight at him. "And what business is that of yours?" she asked, amazed at how calm her voice sounded. Her heart was racing.

"I'll make it my business if'n I please. Just thought I'd have a look at you," the man said in a slow drawl that set the hair on her arms on end. "Pretty face, but I don't see what the fuss is about. No matter. I deliver your skull and I'm set for life."

As if in a dream, she drew her sword and assumed a defensive stance. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The man had a dagger in his hand, and came at her with the weapon raised. She ducked out of his way and brought her sword around, then up. It cut into his chest, through flesh and bone and sinew. The man screamed - the sound was cut off, like a hiccup - and fell to the ground.

She stared at him, clutching the hilt of her sword with both hands as she tried to regain her breath. She could feel the blood rushing through her, but to her surprise, she was filled with calmness rather than nausea. She'd been attacked, and she had defended herself. It was that simple.

She caught a blur of green movement in the corner of her eye. Karan was running towards her. "I heard shouting!" he gasped, half out of breath. "Are you alright?"

She looked at the fallen man. "He's... He's dead, whoever he was. He lunged at me with a knife, and he wasn't even the first one today!" A lump formed in her throat. "Karan, what is happening to this place?"

Karan's expression was grave. "It's not this place, child... It's you they're after."

Her heart sank. "But why?" she asked plaintively.

"I do not know; I merely know that they want you." Karan sighed heavily. "I have been your tutor for so many years and only in this moment have I come to suspect that my teachings have not been enough. Go to Gorion, child; he is waiting for you on the steps to the library. It is safe for you here no longer." Her tutor paused and wiped an eye.

She bit her lip, then nodded slowly. "I'll do that. Thank you, Karan. For everything." _Father will know. He'll set things right. _

She ran towards the library. Her answers would all be there!


	2. Chapter 1: Lost and Found

**Chapter 1: Lost and found **

Ember hummed a lullaby - the one he had sang for her when she was a child - as she wrapped her foster father's body in her cloak. Once that task was completed, she reached out her hand and closed his eyes. He looked so very peaceful; it was easy to imagine that he was merely sleeping, that the events playing over and over in her memory hadn't happened. _The massive sword, all but cleaving Gorion with one stroke. Glowing yellow eyes surveying the woods around the stone circles, searching for her. The disgusted sound the armoured figure had made before kicking her foster father's body aside and striding off into the darkness._

Ember sighed and turned towards Imoen. "He died because of me," she said in a low voice.

"Don't say that!" Imoen said.

"None of this would have happened if those people didn't want me dead!"

"It's not your fault, Ember. Gorion died because of that ...spiky man. Not because of you."

"I know. I know. He chose to defend me." Ember wiped away a stray tear. "He deserved better than this."

Imoen gave her a tight hug. "And so do you."

"Thanks, Immy," Ember said, returning the hug for a moment. "I... I should get ready to go," she said, turning away to inspect her gear. Her leather armour had a large hole where she'd been hit last night, but it couldn't be helped. She strapped it on and hung her sword from her belt, then retrieved a large hood from her pack and pulled it over her shoulders for warmth. As she brushed dirt and leaves off her dark tunic and leggings, she noticed Imoen was rummaging through Gorion's travelling bag.

"What are you doing?" Ember asked.

"I just want to see if there's anything useful in here," Imoen explained. She pulled out a handful of gold coins and dropped them into Ember's coin purse. "Those are yours now... ooh, here's that letter I saw!"

Imoen handed her a folded parchment. Eagerly, Ember unfolded it and began reading, hoping for a clue as to what was happening, but the letter left her very disappointed. The writer, 'E', had advised Gorion to leave Candlekeep, but was less than explicit as to why, and ended the letter with a note about Gorion's friends at The Friendly Arm. She stuffed it into her pack with an angry frown. "Thanks a lot, E," she muttered.

A warm hand touched her arm in a soothing gesture. "You don't have to hide it, you know," Imoen said.

"Hide what?"

"You're scared."

Ember paused. "And what if I am?"

"You silly muffin, don't you know I'll be coming with you?"

Ember's heart filled with relief even as her mouth protested. "You can't! It'll be dangerous!"

"I'm not gonna leave you wandering around out here all alone if that's what you were thinking, miss mysteriously-in-peril!"

"Imoen, are you really sure about this?"

"As if I'd let my best friend go adventuring all over the place while I sit at home with boring old monks. Really, you know me better than that!"

For the first time that day, Ember smiled.

-.-.-

They discussed travelling plans as they walked back to Candlekeep to notify the guards about Gorion. Ember felt it was better not to be seen there, so she waited in the bushes while Imoen talked to Hull and Fuller, the guards at the gate. Hull scolded Imoen and sent her inside before setting off with Fuller, but it was only a few minutes before Imoen strolled around a corner of the outer wall, whistling innocently. Their initial goal was to get to the Friendly Arm and meet Gorion's friends, but neither felt the main road was safe, and and taking a short cut through the sinister Cloakwood was out of the question. In the end, they decided to head east through the lighter woodlands to the south of Candlekeep, where they were less likely to be spotted.

The choice seemed a wise one as they walked through quiet, almost serene woods. For the first few hours, they saw nothing larger than the occasional rabbit, and were free to share their memories of Gorion and Candlekeep as they walked.

"...and do you remember when I let you cut my hair?" Ember said, running a hand through her deep brown locks. "Father was so upset! He had to cut it all off to get it even again, and I looked like a boy for months!"

"Or how about when we dyed his robe pink as a birthday present, and he still wore it all day?" Imoen smiled. "I wonder what Ulraunt... wait, what's that?"

A wolf was slowly approaching them. Large and feral, its eyes had a hungry gleam.

"Run!" Imoen screamed, and immediately took her own advice. The wolf reacted to her sudden movement, and bounded towards them.

"Leave her alone!" Ember yelled. A coppery taste filled her mouth as she drew her sword and assumed a fighting stance, intent on giving her friend a chance to get away. The wolf drew closer; she could see the glint of its teeth as it circled her and the change of posture as it prepared to spring upon her.

A ball of magical energy buzzed past her and struck the wolf in the muzzle. It howled with pain and lunged blindly at Ember. She jumped aside and swung her blade at it, cutting a deep gash in its thigh. Foam was forming in the wolf's mouth as it turned towards her. It flinched away as she jabbed at it, but seemed undeterred until another missile from Imoen's wand knocked it to the ground.

"Is it dead?" Imoen asked as she hurried back to her friend.

"I think so." Ember prodded the animal gingerly with the tip of her sword, and was relieved to see no reaction. "Imoen, where did you get that wand?"

"I borrowed it from Winthrop's room. Why, do you think he'll miss it?"

The arrival of a stranger interrupted the girls' conversation. "Hail," a deep gravelly voice called out. Looking down the path, they saw an elf walking towards them. He was slightly shorter than Ember, and was dressed in brown and green leathers. His dour face was decorated with bluish streaks, and he held a bow in his hand.

"It is not often that I come across strangers in this part of the world," the elf said as he approached. "The ones that announce their presence in the woods by shouting are particularly rare."

"We were just attacked by this wolf," Ember said, indicating the carcass with her sword.

"I see," the elf said. "And what foolishness takes city dwellers this far from civilization?"

"I wish I knew," Ember mumbled.

"I am Imoen, and this is Ember. Some bad people want her dead, and they killed her father yesterday. Now," Imoen paused to point her wand at the elf's chest, "are you one of those people? I hope not, 'cause you seem like a nice guy and I'd rather not have to fire this thing at you!"

The elf looked bewildered for a moment, then nodded briefly. "Very well, Ember and Imoen. I am Kivan of Shilmista, and I have been hunting the bandits in the region for the past few months. I doubt you are my quarry; they would hardly travel as noisily as you two."

"We are going to The Friendly Arm Inn," Ember said. "My father's friends await us there."

"The Friendly Arm? You will not reach it tonight, and the road there is perilous." Kivan regarded the two human girls closely. They were severely bedraggled, and their gear was scant and of poor quality. If they truly were pursued, they would never reach the Inn as they were equipped now. However, they had fighting spirit, as the dead wolf showed. The eyes of the tall one showed a strong will, and the red-haired girl had the air of one who would not be deterred by anything. If they had some help...

"You should come with me to Beregost," Kivan said. "It is fairly close, and has a fine blacksmith and armourer. You can get better gear there, and I am willing to escort you to the Inn tomorrow. What say you?"

The girls looked at each other. Imoen shrugged.

"No strings attached?" Ember asked.

"Strings?" Kivan asked.

"Strings. Things we have to do for you in return," Imoen explained.

"Ah. No, there are no strings," Kivan said. "'But I do expect you to behave sensibly if we should run into trouble, of course."

"Of course," Ember said.

"Then it is settled. Follow me; Beregost lies this way."


	3. Chapter 2: Bountiful Beregost

**Chapter 2: Bountiful Beregost**

The three travellers reached Beregost after sundown. The streets were fairly quiet; the only people they saw were a handful of courtesans and their customers.

"I thought you said Beregost was close!" Imoen complained to Kivan.

"The Friendly Arm is twice as far from where I met you," he replied. "Come, I shall take you to a suitable inn."

The common room of the Red Sheaf Inn was poorly lit. As they entered, Ember could barely make out a short, stocky figure getting up from one of the tables and walking towards them. She wondered briefly if it might be the proprietor, but was soon disillusioned.

"You're at the end of your rope, I'll wager," the dwarf said to her. "Not that it's anything personal, you understand, but I'm afraid your time on this here ball of mud is just about done."

_Here we go again..._ "Why are you doing this?" Ember asked. "I've done nothing to you!"

"You've done nothing to anyone, far as I know. Don't matter one whit to me. A price is a price and a head is a head, and whenever the two meet, there's old Karlat makin' his living. Like I said, it's nothing personal."

With that said, the dwarf raised a cruel looking axe over his head. Ember forgot all thoughts of tiredness and dodged sideways. The axe hit the floor, splintering the rough planks and getting stuck in a beam of timber. As Karlat dislodged the axe, Ember drew her sword and struck at his chest, but the blow was awkward and glanced off his chainmail armour without harming him. She stepped away quickly, putting a table between the dwarf and herself. The patrons scrambled to get out of the room, further obscuring the dwarf's path to her. A distinct crackling sound told her Imoen had used her wand again, and when she next saw Karlat, his extensive beard was singed and smoking. He roared with displeasure and charged towards Ember, but was stopped short within a handful of steps when Kivan put an arrow in his shoulder. As Karlat staggered and clutched the wounded shoulder, Ember slashed across his right arm, cutting him deeply. A second arrow struck the dwarf's throat, and he collapsed to the floor.

The three of them gathered around the dwarf's body. Ember gingerly reached for his pouch and opened it. A handful of coins and a rolled up piece of parchment fell out.

Imoen picked up the parchment and read it. "Em, you're worth two hundred gold," she said, displaying the bounty notice.

"A bounty? Why is there a bounty?" Ember said, her voice rising as she spoke. "What did I ever do to them? I'm just a girl!"

"Ember, do you know where the safest place to have an enemy is?" Kivan asked quietly. "It is in front of you. As your target."

"Are you suggesting I try to find them?" Ember asked.

"You could avenge your father and protect yourself. You and Imoen are new at fighting, but I see skill in you. We could help each other."

"You help us track them, and we help you hunt bandits?" Ember asked.

Kivan nodded.

Ember hesitated. It had been the longest, most grueling day of her life, and she didn't feel up to making any form of decisions that didn't involve food and rest. She glanced at Imoen, who was yawning.

"We need to think about it. And I would like to meet Gorion's friends before deciding what course we take, if that is okay."

"Aye. I can wait."

-.-.-

They relocated to the Jovial Juggler for the night. It was marvelously assassin-free, and they had a grand supper of roast meat and tubers before heading to their sparse yet comfortable bedchambers. Imoen instantly fell asleep, but Ember lay awake for some time, thinking.

Kivan's offer was tempting in many ways. If she were to find out who she was dealing with, she might be able to do something more about her situation than just dodge assassins. She might even find the spiky man, as Imoen called him. She shivered under her blankets. He would have killed her, she felt certain of that now. She owed it to Gorion to find that man and have him brought to justice for what he had done.

As for hunting bandits... the idea did appeal to her, but was she ready for something like that? Was Imoen? They would be exposing themselves to added danger. And they would be killing more people.

So far, she had been involved in the deaths of three men. It'd all been in self-defense, and to be honest, after the first time it'd felt much easier than she'd ever thought it could. Hunting others would be different than merely defending herself, though, even if they were bad people.

Wouldn't it?

Would her name one day be cursed by a bereaved relative, the way she cursed the armoured man who had killed Gorion? For that matter, were the three assassins she'd killed so far missed by any loved ones?

She sighed and rolled over in bed. It was too much to think about; better to just get some rest, for now.

_If only Father were here..._

She cried herself to sleep.

-.-.-

Sunlight hit her face, waking her with a start. Squinting against the bright light, she saw Imoen standing next to the now open curtains.

"Time to get up! Did you sleep okay?" Imoen asked. She was already fully dressed in her deep pink tunic and leggings, and was pulling on her equally pink hood.

"As well as expected, I guess." Yawning, Ember got out of bed and began putting on her clothes. "You?"

"Yeah, I slept pretty well. The bed felt like heaven, you know. Why do all those adventuring stories never say how tired you get?"

"Imoen, can I ask you something?"

"Of course!"

"When we killed that dwarf last night, how did you feel?"

Imoen chewed her lip for a moment. "Actually, I thought it'd feel worse. I just didn't want him to hurt you, and then he was dead, and that was it."

"We'll be doing that again if we travel with Kivan."

Imoen looked at her with a somber expression. "Em, you saw that bounty notice. We'll probably be doing it again no matter what."

"I know." Ember pulled on her boots and headed for the door. "Maybe Father's friends will offer an alternate course, though."

"Well, if we're going to find out if they do, we have to get to them! And we need breakfast to do that! So you just march downstairs this minute, young lady!" Mock-scolding, Imoen shoved a grinning Ember towards the door.

Kivan was already in the common room, sitting at a table. "Have you waited long?" Imoen asked him.

"An hour or so. It is of no concern; you needed the rest."

They had breakfast next to an old paladin named Bjornin. As they ate, he regaled them with tales of villainry he had expunged along the entire Sword Coast. He rounded his stories off with the tale of a band of half-ogres that had proven to be too much for him recently.

"If you could give them a taste of justice, that would do me proud," he told Imoen.

Imoen responded with her sunniest smile. "If we ever come across them, we'll smack them silly and tell them you sent us!"

-.-.-

After they finished their meal and bought some spare loaves from the innkeeper, they headed to the Thunderhammer smithy next door. It was a large, hot building, and about half a dozen men were working at forges, hammering metal and talking amongst themselves.

Thunderhammer himself was a large, jovial man. "Kiss me blarmy! What ye wish done?" he called out in greeting as they entered.

"Could you show us what arms and armour you have for sale?" Kivan asked.

"Gladly!" the smith said, leading them to some large racks.

"Wow!" Imoen exclaimed. "What is **that**?"

"That, lass, is a suit of shadow armour! Made for the shadow masters in Amn, and very rarely seen out of their hands!"

"Shadow masters?"

"The largest thieves' guild in Amn, of course. See how well made the armour is?"

"It's gorgeous! How much does it cost?"

"For this one of a kind item? A mere fourteen thousand gold!"

Imoen's face fell. "I... I guess it'll have to wait," she said miserably.

"Come, Immy, let's look at the other suits," Ember said, taking her friend's arm and leading her to a rack of brown leather armours. Imoen soon found a studded suit that fit her pretty well, but she gazed longingly at the shadow armour even as she strapped it on.

Meanwhile, Kivan was examining the chainmails. "Ember, are you able to wear chainmail, or would you prefer to continue with leather?"

Ember walked over to the chainmail selection and lifted one of the suits. "It's a bit heavier than what I am used to, but I think I can manage."

"Look for a suit that fits you well. Too tight and it constricts movement, too loose and it becomes unwieldy as well as unecessarily heavy."

Kivan had already selected a chainmail suit for himself, and waited patiently while Ember examined the remaining suits. She finally found a suit of splint mail that fit well enough to not make her shoulders carry the entire weight, and added a dark green surcoat to wear over it when she noticed Imoen was giggling at her appearance. A simple helmet and a grey cloak with a hood completed her outfit.

Kivan nodded in approval. "A fair choice, and quite affordable. Are you two familiar with bows?"

Both girls nodded. "We practiced target shooting in Candlekeep," Ember said.

"That is a beginning; I will teach you more." Kivan selected a short bow for each of them, along with several bundles of arrows.

"Why do we need these?" Imoen asked.

"Your wand will not last forever, and Ember should not depend solely upon her sword."

Having found everything Kivan felt they needed, they paid for the gear and headed out, following the northward road.


	4. Chapter 3: A Brief Stroll in the Woods

**Chapter 3: A Brief Stroll in the Woods**

"Oh my..." Imoen said, covering her mouth.

Before the three companions was a jumbled mess of toppled wagons, broken crates, torn sacks, and dead bodies. Four dead men lay on the ground, surrounded by a myriad of black flies. The sickly smell of decay was in the air.

"Caravans like this used to go up and down the Coast Way every day," Kivan said. "Not so anymore."

"Bandits?" Ember asked.

"Aye."

Ember felt her blood go cold as she noticed the body of a young child in the wreckage. _What kind of person could do something like this?_ At this moment, she'd have no qualms about murdering every single one of the bandits herself.

"We can't leave them like this," Imoen said quietly. Tears were running down her cheeks.

"Gather the broken wood in a pile," Kivan said.

As the girls collected the wood, Kivan grabbed the largest scraps of canvas and wrapped each body in fabric. With some help from Ember, he then picked up the covered bodies and carried them to the pile of wood. The child's body was last; he cradled the wrapped form in his arms as he carried it, and placed it gently on the makeshift pyre.

The girls held each other as the pyre burned down.

"May their souls find rest," Ember whispered.

-.-.-

The crossroads of the Coast Way were not to be mistaken. A junction of three well-used roads in a clearing of the woods, a large stone pillar indicated the road to the Friendly Arm, another the road back to Beregost, and a third the road to Candlekeep. A decrepit looking old man in voluminous red robes and a matching hat sat on a large rock near the junction. As they approached, he raised his head and looked at them.

"Ho there wanderers!" he called out. "It's been nigh unto a tenday since I've seen a soul walking this road, and I've been without decent conversation since. Travelling nowadays appears to be the domain of either the desperate or the deranged; If thou woulds't pardon my intrusion, might I inquire which pertains to thee?"

Ember raised her eyebrows. "Not to imply anything, but how do you measure up to your own standards? Pestering strangers about their mental state doesn't seem all that well adjusted to me."

A flicker of amusement showed in the old man's faded blue eyes. "Point well taken, and thou hast answered my query most adequately. I shall think of thee as determined instead. I shall trouble thee no more, as thou art more than capable of the task at hand. North is the Friendly Arm Inn, where I am certain thou shalt find trustworthy friends awaiting. I have said too much and taken too much time from thee. Fare thee well." With that, he stood up and trundled slowly down the path to Candlekeep.

"My money's on deranged," Imoen said.

"Utterly deranged," Ember said.

"Unless he's a spy, of course."

"Oh come on! He looked like he'd drop dead if you breathed on him! Who would use someone like that as a spy?"

"That's exactly why it could work, nobody would suspect him, see?"

"I find his remark about the Inn unsettling," Kivan interjected. "We must be wary. Come, let us leave the road for a while."

-.-.-

A second destroyed caravan lay before them. Its demise appeared to have been a long time ago; there was no stench, no flies, and, more importantly, no bodies. Nevertheless, they approached it with caution.

"How did they get here?" Imoen asked.

"If you look carefully, you see wheel ruts," Kivan said as he pointed. "They must have been trying to flee."

A loud roar interrupted them. "Small-folk in my woods? Come to me, punies, for I shall smash you and have your belts!"

"Ogre!" Kivan hissed. Imoen turned pale.

"What shall we do?" Ember asked in a nervous, fast voice. They could hear the ogre stamping towards them.

"Get between the trees. Use arrows. Ogres are large; an easy target. Do not let him get close!"

The girls fumbled their bows off their backs and ran in between the trees. The ogre approached the clearing where the caravan was, and was sniffing around for them. An arrow from Kivan struck him in the shoulder. Bellowing with anger, the ogre straightened up, displaying a chest that could only belong to an ogress. Ember's hand trembled as she drew her bow, and the arrow went wild.

_Focus!_ she thought angrily at herself.

The ogress had spotted Imoen's bright outfit, and was chasing after her. Breathing slowly, Ember concentrated on two things: the arrow, and the ogress. She waited till her muscles calmed down, then released the arrow. It hit the ogress in the back, and she stumbled. Kivan darted out from behind a large bush and shot the ogress in the chest from a short range. Having gained some distance, Imoen stopped and fired a shot of her own, striking the ogress's arm. Roars of pain echoed around them.

Ember calmly reached for another arrow, notched it, aimed, and fired. It hit the staggering ogress in the knee, and her legs buckled.

Ten arrows later, the ogress was no longer breathing. They gathered around the body, which was twice as tall as Ember.

"Wow!" Imoen exclaimed.

"Well done. It is nigh impossible to outrun an ogre, but few dare to stand and fight," Kivan praised them.

"Look at her wrists," Ember said. A glowing leather band encircled each wrist, standing out against the collection of rags and torn leather that made up the rest of the ogress's outfit.

"They look almost like belts," Imoen said, bending down to undo one of the leather straps. As she did so, the ogress's chest flattened, and her facial features coarsened further.

"By the gods!" Ember exclaimed. "She's a male now?"

"Magical belts," Kivan said. "Do not put them on unless you know what they do."

Imoen loosened the second glowing belt, rolled them both up carefully and placed them in her pack.

-.-.-

The woods thinned and the landscape grew rougher, making it impractical to avoid the road. They rounded a low cliff along the path, and found themselves face to face with a leering man. He was dressed in coarse leather with patches of red and black cloth stitched to it, and was pointing a sword at them.

"What have we here?" he asked with a sneer. "Two pretty ladies and an elf? Do just as I say, ladies, and I just might let you-"

"Might what?" Kivan snarled as he drew a long and cruel looking dagger from his belt. Wordlessly, Ember drew her sword, while Imoen readied her bow. The bandit's face fell, and he took a step backwards as Ember and Kivan advanced on him.

He did not get very far.

Kivan bent down over the bandit's body while Imoen inspected Ember for cuts. He soon stood up again and attached something to his belt, then beckoned the girls onwards.


	5. Chapter 4: Paladins and Brigands

**Chapter 4: Paladins and Brigands**

A tall figure in gleaming armour stood on the path before them. Raising a sword, he cried, "Halt! Be you friend or foe?"

Imoen snickered. "Until you tell us who you are, how should we know?" she called out to him.

"I am Ajantis, squire paladin of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart, servant to Helm, son of the noble family of Ilvastarr!" the man announced as he drew nearer.

"What's a squire paladin?"

"I am on a quest to earn my right to be a full fledged member of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart. Thus, I am here to hunt down the vile brigands who assault those travelling these roads. What of you?"

"They are my quarry also," Kivan said.

"Indeed? In that case, perhaps we could join forces against these contemptible law breakers?"

"Let me see your face," the elf said. Ajantis pulled off his bright helmet, revealing a round, cheerful face and bright blue eyes. His light brown hair was closely cropped, but not even the severest of haircuts could have masked his young age. He couldn't possibly be a day older than Ember, the elf thought, but he looked honest enough. Kivan looked questioningly at the girls.

"I don't mind," Ember said.

"He doesn't look like an assassin, so..." Imoen added.

"Then we are in agreement. We are currently headed for the Friendly Arm Inn. You may come with us if you desire," Kivan told Ajantis.

"By Helm, my sword is yours!" Ajantis proclaimed.

-.-.-

A short while later, Kivan spotted a brook not too far from the road. The woodlands around this stretch of the Coast Way were denser and contained more large trees than they had seen further south, and the brook was almost entirely in shadow. They paused to drink, wash their faces and refill their flasks; to everyone's delight, the clear water was cool and sweet. They continued onwards in a leisurely pace; the inn was only a couple hours away.

"So, what do paladins do?" Imoen asked, skipping along beside Ajantis.

"Pardon, miss?"

"What do you do? Do you just run around telling people to behave? Do you rescue damsels from dragons?"

"Ah, it is more complicated as that..."

"So if you saw a dragon with a damsel, would you just leave them alone?"

"Of course not! By Helm, I would do my utmost best to save her from the foul beast!"

"So it's really not that complicated, is it?"

Imoen winked at Ember, who was struggling valiantly to keep a straight face.

Ajantis was looking more and more bewildered by the minute. "What I meant was..."

"Hush!" Kivan abruptly said. Imoen and Ajantis both fell silent as Kivan quietly moved towards a copse of trees. As they followed him, they could hear loud, raucous laughter.

"...So I kicked him in the head till he was dead!" a voice bragged. Several other voices roared with laughter. Peering through the trees, they saw half a dozen men in a circle around a fire. They were dressed in leathers with the same black and red patches as the bandit they had killed earlier. A large hunk of meat was roasting on the fire, and the men were passing around clothing, jewelry and some goblets. Ember's eyes narrowed as she watched them laugh at a small rag doll they found tucked inside a garment pocket.

"These men have a sense of evil about them," Ajantis whispered.

Kivan calmly drew an arrow from his quiver and aimed at one of the laughing men. Ember and Ajantis drew their swords, and Imoen readied her own bow. Kivan's arrow struck the bandit in the chest, and he fell forward into the fire with a surprised expression on his face. The other bandits cursed and scrambled to their feet as they were peppered with more arrows from Imoen and Kivan.

The young paladin charged the camp, crying out "For the glory of Helm!" as he slashed viciously at a bandit. His enthusiasm was contagious, and Ember yelled as she raised her sword and charged after him.

It was exhilarating. No other word could describe the sensations that flooded Ember's mind as she fought. It was almost as if she were more alive, her body instinctively moving to defend itself even as she tried to cut her opponent down, fire rushing through her veins as her sword danced in search of blood. There was nothing in the world but her, her sword, and her opponent. Not even the long gash she sustained to her arm slowed her pace, and when the last bandit fell, she felt a tinge of disappointment that it was over so soon.

"Take that, you scum!" she shouted as she danced around the little camp, making it almost impossible for Imoen to hand her a healing potion. She turned towards Kivan, brimming over with the joy of victory, and her heart turned cold.

Kivan was methodically walking from one fallen bandit to the next. Using his dagger, he made a small nick on the forehead of each, removing a piece of hair and skin. Each sample of bandit scalp was then tied them to a string on his belt; a string which held several other hairy clumps. Ajantis was watching him in baffled silence, and Imoen gasped and turned green as she, too, saw what Kivan was doing.

"Wh-why?" Ember stuttered.

Kivan looked at her with a weary expression. "To remember how many are behind me. To remind me how many are yet before me."

Imoen swallowed. "You never told us why you hate them so," she said.

Kivan looked at the scalp in his hand for a long moment, as if contemplating it. Eventually, he sighed and began speaking, but he did not look up. "Years ago, my wife and I were captured by brigands, wearing armour marked like this," he said, indicating the bandits' red and black patches. "Their captain, Tazok, thought it would be amusing to... to torture us. My Deheriana did not survive."

Kivan's gravelly voice was quiet, but his fingers were clenched hard enough around the bandit scalp to turn his knuckles white. "I eventually escaped, and slowly regained my health. I have pursued the bandits ever since. And I shall not stop till they are destroyed."

"Evil must be purged without mercy," Ajantis said in a low voice.

Kivan turned towards Ember and Imoen. "I did not mean to startle you. I have hunted alone for so long... I forgot how it must appear."

Imoen looked distinctly uncomfortable; she was hugging herself, shifting her weight from foot to foot, and looking around at everything but Kivan and the dead bandits. "Do you really have to do **that** to them?"

"It's just that... you've been so practical about everything so far," Ember said. "I'd never expect you to be the scalping type." _You've known him barely a day,_ she chided herself. _How can you know what to expect of him?_

"I must admit, I had never seen the practice till this day," Ajantis said. "However, I have heard about it. It is sometimes employed by bounty hunters."

"I seek no bounty," Kivan said.

_To remember. To remind._ "Does it makes their deaths more tangible?" Ember asked quietly.

Kivan looked at her. "Perhaps," he said.

"I guess... they don't feel it," Imoen said, "being dead and all... and they won't miss those little bits of stuff... but it's still icky!"

"I understand," Kivan said. "Do you wish us to part ways?"

"I cannot fault you for this habit," Ajantis said. "I will hunt with you."

Ember looked at Kivan. He had been a stoic protector so far, but he was also a man who kept his tormentor's scalps on his belt as a reminder of what he had lost. It was the grisliest thing she had ever heard of. And also one of the saddest.

_He must have loved her very much._

"We will do as we agreed earlier, and at least keep company till we get to the Inn," she said. "What we do after that, I cannot say."


	6. Chapter 5: Fear and Confusion

**Chapter 5: Fear and Confusion**

The Friendly Arm Inn loomed before them like a flaming beacon in the light of the setting sun. It was easily the tallest building Ember and Imoen had ever seen; they had spotted it from well over a mile away. Ajantis, who had been spent many a night at the Friendly Arm, had told them all about the history of the former keep during the last stretch of the road.

"Your father's friends should be within the inn itself," Kivan said as they passed the gate guards. The inner area held not only the inn, but also a number of homes and a temple dedicated to Garl Glittergold; an entire village had sprung up within the outer walls since the Mirrorshades opened the inn and the temple.

"I suppose so," Ember replied, watching a farmer lead a cow into a shed for the evening. The prospect of meeting her father's friends made her nervous. She had little doubt they would be trustworthy, but she had no idea what kind of people they would be. Her father had had many friends, but she had never met most of them; when he had gone on his journeys in her youth, he'd almost always met up with his companions at some place away from Candlekeep. She wondered briefly if her father had met with his friends at this very place sometimes. The thought was oddly comforting, as if her coming here now in his footsteps gave her some kind of bond with him.

A man wearing black robes with gaudy green trim was standing on the steps at the main entrance of the inn. As they drew closer, he glanced at a parchment, then at their group, then at the parchment again. Apparently satisfied, he approached them.

"Greetings," he said to Ember in a friendly voice. "I've not seen you here before today. What brings you to the Friendly Arm?"

"I am here to meet some friends," Ember replied.

"Oh, you must be whom I am to meet then," the man said. "Would your name be Ember of Candlekeep, by any chance?"

Ember did not like the way the man was smiling at her. "Never heard that name before in my life. Sorry."

The man's smile turned into a leer. "Really? I would beg to differ. You fit the description, so I think it would be safe to assume you are the one I seek. Don't move. I have something for you."

With a quick gesture and some muttered syllables, several copies of the man sprung up around him, their hands all moving with the gestures of another spell.

"Foul beast!" Ajantis cried, and lunged at one of the mages. His sword cut through it, and the mirror image dissipated. Kivan drew his bow and shot an arrow into the mass of mages, dissipating another. Ember slashed at yet another mage, struggling to hit it as it shimmered and shifted around.

The spell finished casting.

Ember gasped as a feeling of utter dread filled her, overwhelming her senses. Her sword fell from her powerless hands, and she stepped backwards.

_Get away! Get away!_

She stumbled and fell to her knees. Staring fixedly at the horrifying man... men... in front of her, she crawled backwards till her body struck something that felt icy cold and slimy and sharp. She reached a hand out sideways, afraid to take her eyes off of the horror before her, and stung her fingers on prickly needles of fire. The grass around her was turning a toxic shade of yellowish green and waving menacingly; it would bite her if she moved.

There was no escape.

-.-.-

As soon as the mage fell, Imoen ran towards Ember, who was huddled against the wall of the inn.

"Ember? It's me, Imoen. It's okay now..." Imoen said, stroking her friend's hand.

Ember moaned at the touch, but did not respond otherwise. Her face was deathly pale, and her green eyes, wide and dark with fear, were staring blindly at the spot where the mage had stood.

"Leave her be, child," Kivan told Imoen. "She is ensorcelled, and your touch will frighten her. Wait until the spell breaks."

Imoen withdrew her hand as if stung, and waited.

"The spell won't harm her, miss," Ajantis said consolingly, "and it will break soon."

"I just wish there was something I could do," Imoen said miserably.

After a short while which felt like days, Ember's body began to lose its panicked tenseness. Drawing a deep, ragged breath, she looked around.

Fresh grass, normal people, a plain rock wall at her back.

"Thrice-damned goat offal!" she blurted out. "Where is that son of a... oh." There was a bloodied bundle on the ground where her attacker had stood. As she watched, guards arrived with a large sheet, which they wrapped around the body.

"Are you okay?" Imoen asked, grabbing Ember by the arm.

"I'm fine now. But that spell... Immy, you never want to get hit by that." Ember shivered briefly, and gladly accepted a forceful hug from her friend.

Kivan and Ajantis were talking quietly with one of the guards. As their conversation ended, the guard smiled, shook their hands and handed them a bloodstained leather bag. The guards soon finished wrapping the body, and carried it away. As soon as the guards had left, Kivan opened the bag and rummaged around inside.

"They accepted our claim that the mage was at fault," Ajantis told the girls. "Apparently, he was quite unpleasant during his stay, and they were glad to see him gone. They even allowed us to take his belongings for investigation."

"Ember, your price has gone up," Kivan said, holding up a note. "Three hundred and fifty."

"Wonderful," Ember said. She slowly stood up and walked towards Kivan to look at the new bounty notice. "Hey, are those spell scrolls?" she said, noticing a bundle of rolled up parchments sticking out of the mage's bag.

Kivan nodded. "I believe we should keep them. We might have use for them one day."

Imoen immediately turned towards Kivan. "Can I carry them? Until we find someone who can read them for us, I mean? Please?" she asked. Kivan wordlessly handed her the bundle.

"So, which spells are they?" Ember asked. "Yes, I really am fine!" she said in response to the look Imoen gave her. "Stop fussing and tell me what we just got!"

Imoen grinned and began unrolling the scrolls. "Oh, these are pretty nice. Here's a magic missile... this makes your hands shoot flames, and I think this is a protective spell!" she exclaimed.

"I thought you said you could not read them, miss?" Ajantis asked.

"Well, I can't **read** them. I don't know how to say them. But I do know what different spells look like on paper. They're almost like works of art, you know? Add a line, and the spell becomes more powerful. This squiggle means fire, that curve means it protects..."

"You should have seen how much time she spent figuring that stuff out," Ember added with a smile. The memories of the spell's effects on her were fading fast under the onslaught of Imoen's enthusiasm, just as she had hoped.

-.-.-

Ajantis looked on in relief as the young ladies chatted about the spells; they seemed to be unscathed by their latest ordeal. It puzzled him immensely that Ember was so calm about the bounty on her head. It was all the more astounding as he had been given to understand that she did not even know why she was hunted, and he had found no reason to doubt the truth of that. He recalled too vividly the first time Sir Keldorn had taken him on a mission. They had hunted down a small band of murderous thieves, and the experience had been so unpleasant that he had been granted the following day off to compose himself before their next task. These two girls had had no such reprieve, yet they were coping better than he had. Was it because they had no choice about the matter?

A small, sharp noise startled Ajantis out of his reverie; someone was tapping his pauldron. Glancing to his left, he found himself staring deeply into the eyes of a very gruff-looking woman.

"I see you have some skill in fighting. Could I trouble you a moment?" she asked.

"Certainly, m'lady. Speak your mind," Ajantis said, bowing deeply.

"Such manners!" the woman said wryly. "I have no need for those, though. What do I need is someone to go club some heads for me. I was ambushed by a band o' Hobgoblins within sight of this Inn's walls. Robbed me blind, they did, and I want to return the favor," the woman said. "I don't care about most of my things, but I want to get my ring back. My father gave it to me, you understand?"

"Of course, my lady. We shall find these brutes for you, and win back your ring!" Ajantis proclaimed loudly.

"On the morrow," Kivan said. Ajantis turned to find all three of his companions listening to his exchange with the woman.

"I understand," the woman said, "and tonight or tomorrow, Joia thanks you. Tell me when you are ready, and I will lead you north of the Inn to where they attacked me. You'll know my ring when you see it; it's a flamedance ring, and very striking." She bowed slightly, turned away and walked towards a small cottage near the outer gate.

"So, how do rings and damsels compare on the heroic scale?" Imoen asked.

"All acts of virtue have their own worth, miss."

"But if you had the choice between rescuing a damsel from a dragon, or a ring from a hobgoblin?"

"Ah. A life must take precedence, of course."

"What if you have to rescue a dragon from a damsel?"

"Pardon?"

"Or a hobgoblin from a dragon?"

Ember began to giggle. "I think I'd rescue the dragon from the hobgoblin, myself."

Ajantis looked from one girl to the other, and straightened himself up. "It matters not who or what needs to be rescued. What matters is that there are those such as the Knights of the Order, who will uphold the law, strike against evil, and right injustices! As long as we obey what our hearts tell us to be right, justice shall prevail, be there rings or dragons or damsels or even cows involved!"

Ember smiled at him and patted his arm. "I think you'll make a fine knight one day."

Ajantis blushed slightly. "I thank you for your compliment," he said with a happy smile as they headed up the stone steps towards the inn's main door.


	7. Chapter 6: Friendly Arms

**Chapter 6: Friendly Arms**

The spacious dining hall of the Friendly Arm Inn was bustling with activity. Serving maids scurried around, carrying large platters which held roast meat, bread, or tankards of ale. The din of numerous conversations and the sounds that accompany eating and drinking filled the dining hall, accentuated by snatches of drinking songs.

"How shall we find them in this crowd?" Imoen said, stepping around a drunken reveler.

"Follow me! I shall take you to the innkeeper," Ajantis said, striding determinedly towards the far side of the room. Ember, Imoen and Kivan followed closely behind him as he wove a path between the tables, gently nudging a vivacious diner here and pausing to let a maid pass by there. They soon found themselves standing in front of a long counter made of polished wood. A jovial looking gnome in green robes was standing on a platform behind the counter, filling mugs with ale and beer.

The gnome smiled at them in greeting. "A good evening to you, squire Ajantis! How may I be of assistance?"

"Good sir Mirrorshade, my companions here are seeking a pair of friends, and were told to find them here. Perhaps you could assist us in locating them?"

"Their names are Khalid and Jaheira," Ember added.

"Friends of yours, you say?" the gnome said as he regarded Ember closely. Kivan and Imoen received an equal amount of scrutiny before he addressed Ajantis again. "Squire, do you vouch for these people?"

"With my honor," Ajantis proclaimed.

The innkeeper looked at Ember one more time, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "Oh, very well," he finally said. "They are dining in the north corner room. Do you know it, Ajantis?"

"I know it well," Ajantis said. "Many thanks for your assistance!"

They made their way through a large cluster of tables to the western wall of the inn. It was quieter here, and the tables had more space between them. The wall itself was lined with a number of door-sized archways, each of them opening up into alcoves which each seemed able to seat up to eight people comfortably. They stopped outside the northernmost of the archways.

"This is the corner room," Ajantis told Ember. "We shall wait for you out here; do not hesitate to call for us should you need assistance."

"Thanks," Ember said, casually looking into the alcove. A man and a woman were sitting inside. Both were dressed in browns, but otherwise they looked quite dissimilar; the man in chainmail had dark hair, an olive complexion and a pronounced nose, while the leather-clad woman was paler and slenderer, with golden brown hair and a mild tan which spoke of many days spent outdoors. They were eating their supper, and seemed absorbed in a conversation. How should she best introduce herself to them? She glanced nervously at her friends.

"Imoen, will you come with me?"

"Of course!" Imoen said, smiling cheerfully.

Ember smiled back at her friend. Drawing a deep breath, she stepped through the archway, closely followed by Imoen.

As the two girls entered, the couple in the alcove turned to regard them with even more scrutiny than the innkeeper had. At this close range, Ember noticed the slight points of their ears and a hint of an angling of their eyes. Half-elves, both of them. The man's expression was that of friendly curiosity, but the woman's gaze made Ember feel as though she were a soldier being inspected.

"Um, excuse me," Ember said hurriedly, "are you Khalid and Jaheira?"

"Something about you is f-familiar, child," the man said. "Your manner reminds me of a sage I know, b-by the name of Gorion."

"It is almost a slight on him, but I see it too," the woman said, her hazel eyes showing mild disapproval.

"Jaheira! M-mind your m-m-manners! This must be the child that Gorion wrote of so often."

Ember frowned. Why was the woman being so crass? "Yes, I am Gorion's daughter, Ember. This is my friend Imoen."

"Heya!" Imoen said, waving a hand in greeting.

"I am Jaheira and this is my husband, Khalid," the woman said. "We are old friends of your adoptive father. He is not with you? I must assume the worst; he would not permit his only child to wander without his accompaniment," she stated in a level voice.

"If... if he has passed, we share your loss," Khalid said quietly.

"He was killed the night we left Candlekeep," Ember said. Khalid bowed his head at the news.

Jaheira nodded somberly. "Then it is as we feared. It is fortuitious that you have survived, though; Gorion often said that he worried for your safety, even at the expense of his own," she said. "He also wished that Khalid and I would become your guardians, if he should ever meet an untimely end. However, you are much older now, and the choice of your companions should be your own, but it would be a fitting last service to Gorion if you should come with us. Khalid and I... look into local concerns, and you would do well to help us. Local matters affect everyone, even you."

Stunned, Ember stared at Jaheira. "Is that all you can say?" she blurted out. "You claim to be Father's friend, but all you can say when he is dead is... is that I should busy myself with local matters? Do you even care that he's gone?!" Her eyes began to sting with tears.

"Watch your tongue, child!" Jaheira said. "What could you know of the world, of what should be done? Are you at all prepared for your future? I speak only of what is for the best!"

"Jaheira, do you have to be so... so..." Khalid muttered.

Ember wiped her eyes and forced her voice to be calm. "I am not a child, and I am not stupid," she said in a low tone. "My father is two days dead, there are bounty hunters after me, and I did not come here to be patronized by someone who has never even met me before."

"Bounty hunters?" Jaheira asked incredulously. "Child, what have you done?"

"Hey, what makes you think it's her fault?" Imoen protested. "She hasn't done anything!"

"Is that so?"

Ember glared at Jaheira. "The men who killed Father were after me. For some reason, they want me dead. Father knew why, but he never got the chance to tell me."

"Then it is all the more important that you come with us."

"What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?!"

"I must insist; you will not survive without proper guidance," Jaheira said, her voice rising slightly.

"We've dealt with two bounty hunters already. I think we'll manage."

"Gorion would never forgive us should we let you go astray!"

"Like you said, I am old enough to choose my own company." Before Jaheira could respond, Ember stomped out of the room, and Imoen ran out after her. Neither of them noticed the dismayed look on Jaheira's face.

-.-.-

"How did the meeting go?" Ajantis asked as Ember and Imoen returned. Judging by the thundercloud that was Ember's expression, he feared it did not go well.

"How can anyone be so... so bloody practical!" Ember hissed. "I cannot see how Father could possibly call her a friend!"

"They were not as you hoped, then," Kivan said. "I am sorry."

"Jaheira was pretty intense," Imoen explained. "Khalid seemed all right, though."

"At least he seemed to care that Father is dead. **She** barely even flinched at the news." Ember wiped her eyes angrily. The woman had never even said a kind word for Gorion in her eagerness to recruit Ember for whatever it was she was doing, and that hurt Ember more than any of the slights she'd received. Her father deserved better than that!

"Is there anything we can do?" Ajantis asked, his bright blue eyes showing genuine concern.

Ember looked at Ajantis and Kivan. The young paladin had shown himself to be quite protective, and the gruff, quiet ranger had been nothing but nice to them ever since he found them in the woods. They would probably be dead already if not for Kivan, she mused. She was certain he knew that as well as she did, but even as he referred to Imoen and herself as children, he had consistently treated them as equals; as part of a team, all working together. She had a distinct feeling that it would stay that way if they were to continue onwards with Kivan and Ajantis, and she couldn't say she would mind.

_After all, what's a few scalps between friends?_

"If it's all right with Imoen," she said, glancing at her friend as she spoke, "I want to continue travelling with you two."

"Are you sure?" Imoen asked.

"Yes, I'm sure. Jaheira was right about one thing, you know; we're not likely to get far on our own."

"If you do come with us, I will try not to cause you any further discomfort," Kivan added.

"In that case..." Imoen paused, looked at each of her companions, then smiled. "Yep, it's all right with Imoen!"

"I am very happy to hear that," Ajantis proclaimed with a grin.

"I look forward to seeing what will become of you two," Kivan said as one of his rare smiles crossed his face. "But for now, let us eat."

They found a vacant table, and ordered food from one of the maids. She returned to them a few minutes later with their food; warm, fresh breadrolls and slabs of piping hot roast lamb, which they ate with a sauce made from last year's apples. They were happily munching away and discussing the finer points of hobgoblin hunting when Imoen noticed someone approaching.

"Isn't that Khalid?" she said, looking over Ember's shoulder.

Ember turned in the direction Imoen was looking. Khalid was standing there, looking embarrassed. She noted gratefully that Jaheira was nowhere in sight.

"Ember? M-may I have a word?"

"Of course," Ember said. She stood up from the table and followed the half-elf out of earshot of her companions. "If you came to ask me to reconsider travelling with you, the answer is still no."

Khalid shook his head. "I thought as much. No, I came to a-apologize for how we greeted you."

"You said nothing wrong," Ember said evenly.

Khalid smiled wryly. "Jaheira's manner c-can be harsh when you do not know her. She d-does care, but she will not show it openly."

"I understand," Ember said politely. "If it helps, you can tell her I'll do my best not to be led astray. We are going to continue travelling with those who came here with us, a ranger and a squire paladin."

The half-elf smiled warmly at her. "I am glad to hear that. Jaheira and I will be n-n-near Gullykin. If you should have use for us, we will do our b-best to aid you."

"Thanks, Khalid; I appreciate it," Ember said. They walked back to the table, and Ember introduced Kivan and Ajantis to him. Ajantis greeted him warmly, while Kivan muttered an almost inaudible pleasantry.

"By the way, I do have one question..." Ember said as Khalid was about to leave them.

"Yes?"

"Do you have any idea who might have killed Father, or why they are after me?"

"That was two questions," Imoen muttered under her breath, grinning slyly.

"I am t-terribly sorry, but we do not know. And we know n-nothing of your past; Gorion never told us how he got you."

"Thanks anyway," Ember said. She extended a hand to him. "I wish you luck in your travels."

Khalid took her hand and shook it firmly. "And you also."

-.-.-

It was getting late. Full and sleepy, Ember entered the bedroom she was to share with Imoen, and sat down on one of the beds. She smiled as the mattress yielded slightly to her weight; the bed was soft and even and promised to be very comfortable. As Ember pulled her boots off, Imoen burst into the room, waving a very shiny piece of cloth.

"Would you look at this!" she said with a giggle. "This stuffy nobleman downstairs thought I was a maid, and asked me to clean these! Have you ever seen anything so ridiculous!"

Ember stared in disbelief at the golden pantaloons in Imoen's hands. "I think my eyes are on fire," she laughed. "That is horrid!"

"He said he needed them for tonight, and wanted me to put a pleat in them that'd make him proud..."

Ember howled with laughter. "Oh, Immy, you have to give them back. Can't... can't let the other diners miss a sight like that!"

"If you insist," Imoen said with a broad grin. She pulled out a dagger and, whistling innocently, lightly nicked one of the backside seams. Satisfied with her handiwork, Imoen headed out of the room. She returned a couple minutes later, smiling in the completely angelic way that nobody who knew her would ever trust.

"What did he say?" Ember asked.

"Oh, it was horrible. He was so mean about the way I'd cleaned his pants. He... he..."

"He what?"

"He withheld my tip!"


	8. Chapter 7: Silk

**Chapter 7: Silk**

Ember woke up shortly before the sun rose over Beregost. She was laying in the very bed she'd slept in two nights earlier, in a room she shared with Imoen in the Jovial Juggler. It wasn't as cozy as the room they'd had at the Friendly Arm, but it was more than pleasant enough, Ember thought. It was certain to be much more comfortable than wherever it was they would be spending the following nights.

The decision to return south had been made yesterday after they had dealt with Joia's hobgoblins. Ember grinned at the memory of that battle; the look on Joia's face when she spotted her heirloom dangling from a hobgoblin nose had been worth the entire excursion. After Joia had left them with her ring clutched in her fist and many colourful descriptions of the hobgoblin's ancestry on her lips, they had talked about which course to take from there. After a brief discussion, they had all agreed that south was the best option; both Kivan and Ajantis wanted to track down more of the bandits, and backtracking would likely throw the bounty hunters off Ember's trail for a while. She knew she couldn't avoid them forever, especially if she hoped to discover who had put out the bounty on her, but both she and Imoen felt getting a few days' peace would be worth the delay. They had had a quiet trip back to Beregost, there had been no bounty hunters to greet them in town, and today they would purchase more supplies and then head out into the bandit-infested southern hills.

Ember glanced at the bed next to hers. Imoen was still fast asleep, curled up in a ball. She had pulled her blankets so closely around her that all Ember could see of her friend was the general outline of her back and a puddle of bright auburn hair on the pillow. Moving quietly so as to not wake her friend, Ember slipped on her clothes and tiptoed to the door, boots in hand.

The common room was almost empty. The only sound that could be heard was a faint din from the kitchen; judging by the smell, the bread of the day was being baked. From the top of the stairs, Ember could see two people sitting in the common room. One was a short woman dressed in flowing robes of black silk. She was eating a morsel of bread and wine at one of the corner tables, and an elegant-looking staff of white wood was propped against the wall behind her. The other person was Ajantis. He had taken a seat near the foot of the staircase, and was busily polishing his shield. He waved a polishing rag in greeting as Ember came downstairs.

"Good morning, miss!" he said with a smile. "What are you doing up so early?"

Ember smiled back at the squire. "Good morning, Ajantis. I just wanted to get some fresh air."

Ajantis nodded. "I believe it will be a beautiful day today. If you'll allow me..." He gently leaned his shield against a chair and stood up to escort her to the front door, which he opened for her with a bow.

"Why thank you, good sir!" She curtseyed elaborately and was rewarded with a chuckle from Ajantis as she stepped outside to greet the morning.

The eastern horizon was a blaze of colour. Painted in hues of gold and pink, the sky was clear but for a layer of thin clouds which only enhanced the glow. The air was just cool enough to taste crisp and fresh without feeling chilly, and the grass was shimmering with dewdrops. A multitude of birds were twittering in the trees and bushes around her. Ember drew a deep breath and turned to face the rising sun with closed eyes, enjoying the warmth on her skin.

She sighed contentedly. It did indeed promise to be a beautiful day.

-.-.-

Ember returned inside to find that Kivan had joined Ajantis at his table. They were both deep in conversation with the woman in black, who fidgeted delicately with the hem of her robe as they spoke. Intrigued, Ember approached them.

"Ah, miss Ember! May I introduce you to miss Silke Rosena?" Ajantis said.

"Greetings! I am Silke, thespian extraordinaire," the short woman said, giving Ember a smile that showed altogether too much of her teeth.

"Pleased to meet you," Ember said.

"Miss Silke needs an escort out of town," Kivan said.

"Oh? I thought escorts were more needed outside of town than within it."

"Allow me to explain," the thespian said in a sweet voice. "Feldepost hired me to perform at his Inn, offering me the finest of venues. Imagine my surprise when I arrived and saw the state of the locale he offered me! Not even a proper stage! Naturally, I refused to display my talent in a less than fitting setting, and that is when my problems began. He would not take no for an answer, and hired men to hurt me! Can you imagine the indignity? I, who shall play at the Ducal palace before the month is done, have been stuck in this inn for fear of what those ruffians might do to me!" She sighed affectedly and brushed her fingers across her brow.

"Her carriage is waiting across town. We have offered to escort her to it," Ajantis said.

"I shall pay you three, nay, four hundred gold if you protect me from those fiends!" Silke proclaimed.

Ember smiled. "Sounds fair to me, and I'm sure Imoen won't mind as long as we still get time to look around the marketplace. Shall I go wake her?"

"Oh no, good child, that won't be necessary," Silke said in an indulgent tone. "I shall be perfectly content to depart this place after breakfast; my carriage will not be expecting me for a couple hours yet."

-.-.-

A couple hours later, the five of them stepped out of the inn and into a crowd. Roughly two dozen gnomes were assembled outside a small cottage next to the inn, and several of them were readying crossbows.

"What's going on here?" Imoen asked one of the gnomes, a stout fellow with a blue feather in his hat.

"Just a lil' vermin hunting," he replied, gesturing with his crossbow towards the cottage door. "Look."

A gnomish woman was casting a spell. A ball of sickly green smoke flew from her hands and into the house where it it exploded, filling the house with a noxious mist. A few moments later, a spider the size of a barrel stumbled out of the doorway. It was immediately skewered by numerous crossbow bolts and collapsed in a heap just beyond the threshold.

"Stinking cloud'll get them ev'ry time," the gnome said with a satisfied grin as he reloaded his crossbow.

"I didn't know spiders could get that large," Ember said.

"Under the right conditions, they can become as large as humans," Kivan told them, "and they spin webs to match."

Ember grimaced. "I hope I never come across those."

They turned a corner and headed towards the town square marketplace, which was bustling with activity. People were haggling with merchants or standing around in small groups, talking more or less quietly. Ember saw a scowling farmer carrying a broken shovel and yelling loudly about the rotten iron the smith sold these days, and heard several merchants bemoaning the cost and the danger of transporting goods while the bandits were so abundant. From what she could gather, getting good quality iron had become quite a problem.

"Hear ye! Hear ye!" The shrill voice of the towncrier carried above the general din. "By order of his Most Radiant of Lathander Kelddath Ormlyr, governor of Beregost, and in the best interest of its peoples, forthwith there be a bounty placed upon the head of the mad cleric Bassilus, for the crimes against nature that he has committed! Anyone bringing proof of his demise to the Song of the Morning temple shall receive no less than five thousand gold! Hear ye! Hear ye!"

"A mad cleric?" Ember said. "That doesn't sound good."

"By Helm, he must be stopped!" Ajantis said.

"Oh, do let us hurry. The sunlight will ruin my complexion," Silke said.

"Come, Ajantis," Kivan said, putting a hand on the young paladin's shoulder. "We can make inquiries about this afterwards."

Ajantis nodded solemnly. "Of course; we should complete the task at hand first. My apologies, miss Rosena."

Silke directed them up an alley which Ember remembered as leading past the inn where they'd killed the dwarven assassin. It was significantly more peaceful than the main street; the sun hadn't reached it yet, and the air was cool and clean. As they stepped into the shaded area and out of the glare of the full sunlight, they could see three men standing at the far end of the alley.

The actress stopped short when she saw the men. "There they are now! I would advise you to strike fast, but whatever you do, don't speak with them. One of them is a mage whose mystic words can sway even the most wise of men!"

"A mage?" Imoen asked.

"Just strike when I tell you to!" Silke said in an agitated voice.

The three men had spotted them, and were walking towards them. "Greetings, Silke. We're here as you've asked, and we have the..." one of the men started.

"Don't try to threaten me! I won't be easy prey for you to beat on; I've brought friends!" Silke announced.

Ember looked at the enraged actress. Something wasn't right.

"What are you talking about?" the man said. "We're here with the gems that..."

"Shut up! There'll be no weaseling out of this one. STRIKE NOW! Kill them all!"

"Stop this madness," Ajantis said, "we won't murder those who are obviously innocent men!"

The actress snarled at him. "Our deal is off! In any case, you're probably too cowardly to be any good in a fight. I'll deal with them myself after I deal with you!"

Silke's hands were moving in a set of gestures Ember remembered all too well. She charged the actress, knocking her to the ground and disrupting the spell. Silke yelled a colourful curse and reached for her staff, but Ajantis kicked it out of her reach. Soon, Ember and Kivan had her pinned to the ground.

"Rope!" Kivan grunted. Ajantis dug into his pack, and soon pulled out a length of strong twine. Ember and Kivan rolled the struggling actress on to her belly and held her hands together behind her back as Ajantis wrapped the twine around her wrists, tying them together with strong knots.

"How dare you!" Silke shrieked. "Unhand me at once!" Imoen responded by stuffing a balled up handkerchief in Silke's mouth.

"Oh my!" one of the men exclaimed. "Thank you for stopping that evil witch before she killed us!"

"What just happened here?" Kivan asked.

"We work for Feldepost," the man said. "She was hired to perform on his stage for a fortnight, but when she arrived, she said she would not set foot in his establishment unless she received full payment up front, in the form of gems. She instructed us to meet her here with the gems this morning."

"She hired us to protect her from thugs so she could leave town," Imoen said.

"I see," another of the men said. "She's too good to perform for us country peasants, but not too good to take our money. Is this how acting is done in the Gate, mistress Silke?"

Ajantis pulled Silke to her feet. "You deceived me, miss Rosena," he said. "You appealed to me for protection, but meant only to use my friends and I for murderous purposes. How could you commit such an atrocity? How... how dare you?"

The bound and gagged actress shot daggers at him with her eyes.

"She must be brought before the authorities," Ajantis told the three men. "We shall take her to the temple guard."

"Again we thank you," one of the men said.

The third man, barely more than a boy, slowly approached Imoen. "Here, take this as a token of our appreciation," he mumbled as he thrust a protective potion into Imoen's hands.

"Oh, thank you!" Imoen said, smiling happily at the boy. He blushed deeply and ran down the alley, all but tripping over his own feet.

Ember picked up Silke's staff. It was smooth and slightly warm to the touch, and felt light yet strong in her hand. "I think we'll keep this," she said. Prodding Silke with the staff, she forced the bound and gagged actress to walk in front of them towards the Song of the Morning temple.


	9. Chapter 8: Foul Play

**Chapter 8: Foul Play**

Even though he knew the odour was no different than that of a normal corpse, the stench of the undead always seemed more potent, Ajantis mused as the four of them gathered around the ghast they had just destroyed. He could see Imoen wrinkle her nose at the smell. It was the third undead creature they had destroyed in the past half hour, and there was an odd stillness about the rock-strewn landscape around them; a heavy, oppressing stillness which the blood red light from the setting sun did nothing to diminish.

After turning Silke Rosena over to the guards, they had inquired about the mad cleric Bassilus. Kelddath Ormlyr himself had told them all that was known in Beregost. Bassilus, allegedly once a Zhentish priest of Cyric, had roamed the area around the town for over a fortnight, killing any innocents that happened along his path. As if that was not horrifying enough, he had raised several of his hapless victims, forcing upon them the curse of undeath. At least half a dozen zombies, ghouls and ghasts had been seen in the area west of town, and over twenty others were missing. The Most Radiant Ormlyr had tasked Ajantis and his companions to dispose of the cleric. A large reward would be theirs if they returned to the Temple with Bassilus's holy symbol, but nothing could be farther from Ajantis's mind as he whispered a blessing over the remains of the ghast, which were rapidly collapsing into a pile of dust.

"This wilderness has a sense of evil about it," Ajantis said out loud. "I believe Bassilus is not far off."

"You're probably right," Ember said. "But nonetheless, shouldn't we rest soon? In an hour only Kivan will be able to see anything."

"I assure you, miss, it will not be much longer..." Ajantis paused and looked towards a sloping escarpment. A man was running down it, scattering rocks and starting minor landslides in his urgency.

"No, stay back, lest this madness be catching!" the man shouted when he saw the group.

"Ah! Surely, he has seen this Bassilus," Ajantis stated. "Calm down," he called out to the man. "What is this madness of which you speak?"

"I have been a rural merchant all my life", the man said, "and am thereby no stranger to poultry of any shade or colour... But there be a fiendish hen to the east that, when I picked her up, she spoke to me in a voice most human. Either I am in the chill grips of the deepest fever or that chicken be possessed by a spirit from the very depths of the ninth and final hell!" The man shouted the final words as he ran away from them.

_A... chicken?_

"This I have to see!" Imoen said.

"Wait!" Ajantis cried, but it was to no avail; Imoen was already running uphill in the direction the man had come from, and Ember followed close behind her. Ajantis exchanged an exasperated look with Kivan as they set off in pursuit of the young ladies.

The sight that greeted them on the other side of the hill was that of a a large wolf was sniffing at a tree, occasionally clawing its bark. A small, white creature sat on one of the lower branches, barely out of reach of the wolf. Even from a distance, Ajantis could hear what sounded like frenetic clucking, interspersed with the word "help". Imoen immediately drew her bow and aimed at the wolf. It was a splendid shot; her arrow struck the wolf high up on its chest, and it keeled over without as much as a whimper.

"Wow! Did you see that!" Imoen said, jumping up and down.

"That was astounding!" Ajantis exclaimed.

Ember was gleefully hugging her friend, and even Kivan was almost smiling. "Excellent shot, child," the ranger said.

They moved towards the tree and found that the white creature was indeed a chicken, and a talking one at that. "Th...Thank ye *cluck*. You have saved *cluck* me," the chicken said.

"Methinks you are no ordinary talking chicken!" Ajantis exclaimed.

"I certainly hope you are *cluck* jesting with me," the chicken said testily. "Indeed I am 'no ordinary talking chicken'. I am a man, and I am in need of your *cluck* help."

"My apologies good... um... chicken," Ajantis said, gently helping the chicken out of the tree. "What has caused your current accursed state?"

"I am Melicamp of Beregost, a *cluck* mage adept in the mystical arts. A... misread... incantation seems to be *cluck* the source of my troubling form. 'Tis been over an month since I *cluck* uttered a polymorph spell, and I simply cannot return to my normal *cluck* form!"

"At least you're a very cute chicken," Imoen said, scratching the side of the bird's head.

"But I don't *cluck* like laying eggs! And I want my arms back! Do any of you have the *cluck* ability to dispel magic?"

"Sorry, none of us know magic," Ember said. "Is there another way we might assist you?"

"Blast it all! Well, there is nothing else I *cluck* can do except my most hated option. There is a tower directly to the west of *cluck* Beregost, about which can be found the mage Thalantyr. I am his... apprentice, and I am... certain he will *cluck* aid me."

"You don't seem very certain," Imoen said.

"Oh, 'tis nothing *cluck* ...REALLY! Um, often the relationship between *cluck* apprentice and master is... strained. He will help. I am... certain."

"I know his abode well; we could get there in an hour," Kivan said, looking at his three companions. "Would you walk by starlight, or shall we wait till morning?"

There was little doubt in Ajantis's mind. "We should head there immediately," he stated. Hesitating would do nothing but prolong Melicamp's misery. The rapidly fading light meant it would not be possible to search for Bassilus much longer, and they would all need rest before long, no matter what. He could only hope the priest of Cyric would find no new victims this night.

"Do you think Thalantyr will have any spare beds?" Imoen asked the bird as she stroked its back.

"Um... *cluck* I don't... know..."

"It doesn't matter," Ember said. "It'll probably be safer there than here, no matter what. Let's go."

"You may travel in my pack until we reach your master's abode," Ajantis offered. Melicamp gratefully accepted, and allowed Ajantis to lift him into the pack. He clucked a few times, rustled his wings and then nestled on top of Ajantis's armour-polishing rags.

-.-.-

Imoen yawned loudly. "I'm getting sleepy," she said. They had walked quite some distance across the rocky scrublands. The sky was almost pitch black, and a light drizzle fell from it. Ember and Imoen kept losing their footing on the wet rocks.

Kivan was searching for a path up a muddy slope when he stopped dead in his tracks. "Do you hear that?" he whispered.

"Hear what?" Ember asked.

"Over here," Kivan said, leading them off to the side. With the elf's guidance, they walked slowly and quietly through a cluster of tall, spindly trees. Within a couple minutes, Ajantis could hear groans and moans and the chatting of a single exuberant voice, and soon after he could see the flickering light of a fire.

"Oh, don't hesitate on my account! Some of the others may not have heard them," the voice said. It was answered by a protracted hiss.

"Hold your peace then," the voice continued, "though I remember a time back at Zhentil Keep when you would sooner die than be quiet. You...would sooner...um... I'll wait 'til you feel like telling them yourself, I don't remember the old days so well."

_Zhentil Keep... could it be?_ Ajantis stepped forward out of the trees, ignoring Melicamp's nervous clucking. In the light from the fire, he could clearly see that the speaker was a human man. The man was surrounded by at at least a score of ghouls and zombies, all in varying stages of decomposition.

_Bassilus. Praise Helm, it must be he!_ There was a loud snapping sound, and a handful of rather crass oaths went through Ajantis's mind; he had stepped on a dry branch.

The man abruptly ceased reminiscing and peered towards where Ajantis was standing in half shadow. "Who dares interrupt while I speak with my family," the man cried out. "I'll have your heads if you're here to harm the...no! It can't be! Is that you, Father? It cannot be otherwise, you haven't changed a bit in all these years!"

Ajantis's mouth dropped open in surprise. "He is truly mad," he whispered.

"Play along with him!" Imoen hissed behind him.

Ajantis cleared his throat. "Uhh...yes, son, it certainly has been a long time. How are you doing...my boy?" he stammered.

"About as well as can be expected, I guess. It has been difficult, but I've got most of the family back together. Some did not seem to recognize me at first... but I helped them recall."

"No matter. I've not seen you since... um... Zhentil Keep. Thank the gods we all got out safely."

"Yes, though it was frightening for a time because I thought I was the only one of us that survived. I thought I was the only one who... the only one..." Bassilus paused. "You lie. YOU LIE! You cannot be my father because he died when I left the... when I..."

"When you ran from your home, leaving them to die? You are a coward and a murderer, and today you face judgment!" Ajantis shouted.

"No! They lived, all of them! I saved them and they live! I... I ran." Bassilus fell silent, and looked at the undead around him. "Dead... all dead." The undead collapsed into small piles of bone and dust. For a single moment, the cleric almost looked sane.

"It isn't true!" Bassilus shouted. "It cannot be... You lie! You will die for slighting my memory!" He charged at Ajantis, armed with a gleaming hammer and a shield.

"Helm, guide my hand!" Ajantis shouted, drawing his sword. Ember charged up beside him, and narrowly missed being hit by Bassilus's first swing. Instead, it hit Ajantis. Blue sparks flew from the hammer and danced across his plate armour and through his body. On fire, frozen, and struck by what felt like a giant fist all at once, Ajantis cried out in pain and fell to his knees. As through a haze, he saw Ember block the second blow with her sword. An arrow from either Kivan or Imoen lodged itself in the cleric's arm, forcing Bassilus to drop his shield. Ember was attacking his exposed side and managed to further wound his arm, but he seemed to not notice the cuts and fought on unabated, striking wildly with his hammer.

Ajantis slowly stood up. Gritting his teeth, he raised his sword and struck at the mad cleric, putting all his weight behind the blow. He hit Bassilus with enough force to make the cleric stumble, giving Ember the chance to slash forcefully at his neck. Her blow landed; there was a wet gargle, and Bassilus slumped to the ground.

Ember drew a deep breath beside him and released it slowly, as if shaking off the battle, he thought. "Are you all right, Ajantis?" she asked.

"Yes, miss. It was just a little shock," he said, not bothering to mention that his fingers still felt slightly numb. A glint of something metallic near Bassilus's throat caught his eye. He reached down and gingerly picked up the item; a square badge depicting a skull on a purple background. It had hung on a delicate chain around the cleric's neck.

"This is the holy symbol of Cyric. Proof indeed that this was Bassilus," Ajantis said, displaying the symbol to his comrades. "Beregost may rest easy tonight."

"But what about Melicamp!" Imoen exclaimed. "Is he all right?"

With a start, Ajantis realized he had forgotten all about the chicken in the heat of combat. Hurriedly, he pulled off his pack and opened it. The chicken was unconscious, but did not appear to be harmed, and was easily revived with a small splash of water.

"*Cluck* *cluck* what? Oh, you won? I'm not dinner? Good..." The chicken glared at Ajantis. "How could you charge like that with me on your back? I might as well have let the wolf eat me!"

"Have no fear, good chicken. I shall remember to deposit my pack on the ground next time."

"Next time? I don't want a *cluck* next time! I don't care what Master Thalantyr will say anymore, it cannot possibly be worse than *cluck* this! I want to go home!"

"It's all right, we'll be there soon, and you'll be yourself before you go to bed tonight," Imoen told Melicamp. "I'll carry you from now on, all right?"

Kivan picked up Bassilus's hammer while the chicken was relocated from Ajantis's pack to Imoen's, and they headed onwards to Thalantyr's tower.


	10. Chapter 9: Scratching the Surface

**Chapter 9: Scratching the Surface**

The last ogre fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

"Is everyone all right?" Imoen shouted.

"Does alive count?" Ember replied, clutching her arm. She hadn't really noticed the pain while they were still fighting - she had been too busy, after all - but now the pain seemed to be intensifying with every moment that passed. Clearly, the half-ogre's blow had broken more than just her bow. She glanced around at her companions: Kivan's breathing was loud and ragged, and Ajantis was limping towards him. She watched as Ajantis placed a hand on Kivan's chest. There was a flash of blue light. When it faded, Kivan was obviously breathing a bit easier; she could no longer hear him from ten paces.

A man and a woman stepped out from behind a large boulder. In the days that had passed since leaving Melicamp in Thalantyr's care, they were the first people Ember and her friends had come across; the ogres had been chasing them, and the group had intervened. Thankfully, they at least appeared to be unharmed.

"Thank you so much for your assistance! We owe you our lives!" the woman exclaimed.

"We could never repay you," The man said. "All I can offer is my healing skills, if you desire," the man said.

"We would appreciate that," Ajantis said.

"I suspected you might. Those ogres did not appear the gentle types. Now, where shall I start..." The man scrutinized each of them before heading for Kivan. He held his hand a couple inches over the elf's chest and murmured softly with closed eyes. "Broken ribs," the man pronounced, then cast a healing spell.

The man continued onward to Ember. "Fractured arm. You should have held still; the bones have twisted out of position."

"I didn't have time to hold still."

"I know, my dear. It doesn't matter; I'll just have to set your arm straight before I can heal it." The man chanted a light healing cantrip, removing the pain and seemingly filling Ember's arm with cool water as he twisted it back into shape. He let go of her arm, nodded with satisfaction, and cast a more powerful spell upon her. The coolness gave way for a warm, tingling sensation as bones and tissue reknit. The warmth flooded through her body, easing minor aches and bruises she had barely noticed were there. Tentatively, she raised her arm; she noted with a smile that it moved and felt as though it had never been injured in the first place.

The healer moved on to Ajantis, concentrating on his badly sprained leg, and finished with Imoen's small cuts and scrapes.

"You have our gratitude," Kivan said.

"If you don't mind my asking," Ajantis said, "why is a healer of your caliber travelling in the wilderness in these unsafe times?"

"Oh, it is a sad tale," the woman said.

The man nodded. "I heal others in penance for what I have done in my past. Many have died because of a foolish act of charity on my part, you see."

"What happened?" Imoen asked, wide-eyed.

"I have a brother, an evil man named Davaeorn. Many have died at his hands, including... including our own father. He lives because I was too weak-hearted to kill him when I had the chance. I have heard that he has come to this region, and I hope to meet him one day, to rectify my previous mistake."

"I hope you do find him," Ember said.

"May we ask who your companion is?" Ajantis asked. "Is this gentle lady aiding you in your momentous task?"

"My wife... my wonderful wife," the man said, smiling warmly at the woman, "could not bear to let me travel alone. She has followed me across many rough miles."

"He makes it sound like a chore," the woman said with a chuckle. "Now, I do not have his abilities, but I do see a lot that is hidden. Plain as day, it is to me. Would you care for a little old fashioned palm reading? A little gypsy magic to steer your course straight and true?"

Ember and Imoen looked at each other.

"Aw, what harm can it do?" Imoen said, shoving Ember towards the woman.

"Hey!" Ember protested, then sighed theatrically at her grinning friend. "I guess I am the first volunteer, then. How does this work?" Ember asked the woman.

The woman smiled warmly. "There is no need for alarm. What I offer is not magic in the common sense, but rather a reading of **you**. Nothing to do with summoning energy, just the reading of that which is already there. Give me your palm and I shall demonstrate."

Ember obediently held out her hand to the woman. "Let's have a look now," the woman muttered, tracing the palm's lines with her fingers; the touch was warm and comforting. "Interesting. Though you live the hard life now, your hand tells of a softer existence not long ago. I assume that you have just recently taken to the road?"

"That much is true, yes," Ember said. _Pretty harmless so far; anyone could see how fresh those calluses are._

"I thought as much. Lets have a little closer look now. Back down your life line," the woman said, tracing a single long line across Ember's palm. "I see a scholarly influence, and you are well educated. You had a mentor that was a great sage? Perhaps of considerable power as well?"

Ember hesitated before answering. "My foster father Gorion might fit that description."

"You had a reasonably happy childhood with him, aside from being a little difficult. My my, but you were quite the little hellion," the woman said with a slight chuckle. "Wonder where that comes from? Let's see what we can't learn about you back before this Gorion." The woman leaned over Ember's hand, studying it even more closely. "Further back I see... I see... Madre de merced!" The woman let go of Ember's hand. "I-see-a-long-and-happy-life-for-you-and-yours," she said hurriedly.

"What? What is it that you saw?"

"I saw nothing! You will live long and enjoy life and we must be going now!" The woman ran off, dragging her confused husband along with her.

-.-.-

Ember stared morosely at the mass of greenish black above her. They were many miles from where they'd destroyed the band of ogres, and had set up camp for the night under a cluster of large evergreen trees. The others were fast asleep already, but although her body felt tired, she just couldn't rest.

She could not get the palm reader out of her head. Her stricken expression, the way she had let go of her hand as though it were toxic, the obvious lie she had insisted upon ending her reading with before running away.

The woman must have seen something horrible in her past.

When they were children, she and Imoen had sometimes pretended that their parents were heroes and princesses who had had to give up their babies for a number of extremely dramatic and deeply tragic reasons beyond their control. It was only a game, but part of her had wished that their games might have had a kernel of truth; she had hoped her lost parents were good, kind people who never would have abandoned her willingly.

If she were a regular, tragic orphan, the woman should have looked shocked and called her a poor, poor child. The only explanation was that her parents were truly awful people, or that she herself was awful. Hells, maybe she killed her parents when she was a baby?

_Now how could I possibly have done that,_ she chided herself. Angry at herself and at her inability to let it go and let herself rest, she tossed her blanket aside and stood up from her bedroll. Moving as quietly as she could, she left the cluster of trees. The moon was half full and gave enough light that she could easily make her way to the small river nearby. She sat down on a large, flat rock which jutted into the shallow river. The river was shallow and had a bed of rocks, worn round and smooth by time and current. She stuck her hand into the cold water and fished out a handful of the pebbles, which she sorted into small piles according to shape. She was preoccupied with skipping the flattest stones across the river when she was startled by the sound of Kivan's voice from behind to her.

"You should be sleeping, child," he said quietly.

Dropping the stone in her hand and turning rapidly, Ember found herself looking up into the elf's serious face. "Kivan! Um, shouldn't you be sleeping too?"

"I do not require much rest," Kivan said. "Why are you sitting here?"

"I'm just... thinking."

"About the healer's wife?"

"Yes," Ember admitted. "I just don't understand... why would she react like that? She was so scared! It doesn't make sense - unless she saw something really bad about me!"

"Palm reading is not an accurate discipline."

Ember didn't respond, and for a couple minutes, the only sounds around them were those of running water, distant nocturnal animals, and their breathing.

"Kivan?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think my parents might have been bad people?"

"Does it matter?"

"Doesn't it?"

"Your lineage does not make you. Good men can have evil offspring, and bad men can have gentle offspring. How you were raised is of at least as much importance."

Ember nodded quietly. "That makes sense, I guess."

"What makes you is what you do here and now, not what might have occured two decades ago. You were raised by a good man, and from what I can see, it is apparent in you. Do not let a fortune teller make you forget that."

Ember smiled in the darkness. "Thanks, Kivan. I appreciate that."

"You are welcome. Now, get some rest, child."

The two of them walked back to the camp in silence. Ember lay down on her bedroll and looked at the stars above her as they shone through the loose ceiling of branches. Kivan was right; her past was no different today than it had been yesterday. Palm reader or no palm reader, she was still who she always had been: Gorion's daughter.

And she'd make him proud of her yet.

As Ember drifted off into sleep, she found herself standing outside the gates of Candlekeep. Her father was standing at the gates, a warm yet wistful smile on his face as he blocked the path back inside.

_"You cannot go back this way, child,"_ her father told her. _"You must go on."_


	11. Chapter 10: Strange encounters

**Chapter 10: Strange encounters**

They were only a stone's throw away from the bears. All three of the animals were clearly visible through the trees; they were laying on the riverbank, dozing in the bright sunshine. Two of them appeared to be asleep, while the third was awake. Imoen was filled with nervous excitement. She had never been this close to a bear before, and for the first time she realized how **huge** the animals were. The awake one was aware of them, following them lazily with its eyes as they moved. What would they do if it decided to attack them?

"Do not look at them," Kivan murmured quietly, "and do not panic. Follow me." He led them in a slow, casual walk around and away from the bears. None of them spoke till the bears were well out of sight.

"Well done, children," Kivan said, halting next to a low cliff-face of reddish rock.

"Why didn't the bears attack us?" Imoen asked.

"They did not feel threatened. Few wild animals will attack people unless provoked. Even wolves will normally prefer to run away, unless they are starved or insane."

"Normally?"

"Too many people have moved into the woods lately. They scare away the wolves' usual prey, and many are unarmed. Easy prey for a flock of wolves on the hunt."

"But we aren't defenseless."

"Indeed, child, but wolves that have gained a taste for sentient flesh may not be able to tell the unarmed from the armed."

"...Oh."

They followed the river for quite a while, and when it emptied into a lake, they continued along the gravelly lakeshore. The air was still and warm under darkening clouds. Maybe there'll be thunder later, Imoen thought. It had been a quiet day; they hadn't run into any of the hobgoblin patrols they had become accustomed to, and had not even been in a skirmish since they were accosted by a handful of half-ogres yesterday evening. It hadn't taken long to deal with the uppity brutes, and as she aimed her bow at the last standing half-ogre, Imoen had remembered something. "Bjornin says hello!" she had yelled as she shot him.

She and Ember had then spent half an hour discussing how likely it was that these were the same half-ogres as the ones had troubled the old paladin in Beregost. It had ended in a stalemate when the roast hare they had been cooking for supper was ready, Imoen recalled with a grin.

Kivan halted in front of them; Imoen wondered what he'd heard this time. _More bears, or maybe some bandits?_

"There is swordfighting nearby," the elf said and turned away from the lakeshore. Picking up his increased pace, the others followed him.

-.-.-

It was the most unfair fight Imoen had ever seen. A dozen or two gnolls were chasing a single cloaked figure. Every now and then, the figure would turn and slash at one of the gnolls with a pair of curved swords, but mostly he or she was just dodging the gnolls' halberds.

"By Helm, we must aid him!" Ajantis cried.

Kivan didn't answer in words; instead, he drew his bow. Imoen pulled her own bow off her back and readied it as Ember and Ajantis drew their swords and ran towards the closest gnolls. Ajantis used his shield to block the swing of a halberd before striking, while Ember dodged a blow aimed at her and spun around to cut the arm off the gnoll that'd attacked her.

Watching Ember fight was actually becoming fun, Imoen mused as she aimed at a gnoll. Her friend sparred with Ajantis every morning and most evenings, and it was beginning to show. Even without a shield, she didn't get injured much more often than Ajantis did, and her movements were growing more and more fluid. _It's almost like dancing._

Her own archery practices with Kivan were showing as well, Imoen admitted to herself with no small amount of pride as her arrow struck a gnoll in the eye. She smoothly notched a new arrow and singled out another target, ignoring the awful sight of the dead and dying bodies in front of her as much as she could.

The cloaked figure was running less and less and fighting back more and more as the gnolls fell left and right. Soon, only a dozen gnolls were left standing, then half a dozen, then three. The five fighters closed in around the three gnolls. The cloaked stranger spun and slashed viciously at one of the gnolls. For a moment, a glimpse of a dark face was visible under his hood.

Kivan inhaled sharply next to Imoen, and his next shot went wild and struck a tree. Before Imoen could ask what was wrong, the last two gnolls fell. The cloaked stranger immediately approached them.

"Well met, strangers; I appreciate your assistance," the cloaked man said in a husky voice. "I do not recall banditry being of such epidemic proportions in this area; how long has this been so?"

"Long enough, drow," Kivan said.

The cloaked man sighed. "I assure you, I am not your enemy. I am Drizzt Do'Urden," he said, pulling back his hood, "and it is many years since I left the Underdark."

_So this is what a drow looks like_, Imoen thought as she looked at the man, who was barely as tall as herself. His face was as dark as coal and formed a strong contrast to his white hair, which grew quite a bit past his shoulders. A mane like was probably quite attractive when groomed, but right now it was matted and stained with blood and dirt. And his eyes were the weirdest colour; she'd read somewhere that almost all drow had red eyes, but this man's eyes were a kind of greyish purple.

"I have heard of that name," Ember said, "but how do we know you are he? You may be a liar."

"Yeah," Imoen said, "you look way too short to be the Drizzt I heard of. You know, the one who's seven feet tall, rides a dragon and eats fireballs for breakfast?" Her reward was a drow with a slightly suffering look on his face and an Ember that appeared to have problems holding back a chuckle.

"I may be able to solve this problem," Ajantis said. "Unless you object, drow?"

The dark elf sighed again. "Nay, I do not object. Do what you must to verify my words."

Ajantis closed his eyes and chanted a few syllables. A faint glow surrounded the drow, then faded. "I detect no evil intent in him," Ajantis said. "It seems reasonable to believe that he is who he says he is."

"Indeed I am. Now, perhaps you could lower your bow a little, good elf?"

"Perhaps," Kivan replied, lowering his bow an inch or two.

"So, if you really are Drizzt, what are you doing here?" Ember asked.

"I am merely passing through as I journey to Icewind Dale. It is a long journey, and these constant interruptions, whether by gnolls, hobgoblins or other bandits, only make it longer."

"But can't you handle them, though?" Imoen asked innocently. "After all, I've heard stories where you singlehandedly took on an entire dungeon full of kobolds!"

"I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, but there is a large difference between taking on a dozen fiends in a row, and taking on all at once."

"But that's what you did in the story! Fought all the kobolds in the dungeon at the same time! It was a very heroic story, I thought."

Drizzt smiled wearily at Imoen. "Stories are but stories."

"You said you have encountered bandits," Kivan said. "Did you see if they wore any particular markings?"

"Indeed I have," Drizzt said. "Some have been like these gnolls, undisciplined and poorly organized, but there are others in these areas that are no mere vagabonds with blades. The humans bear the style of the Black Talon, and the hobgoblins that of the Chill. Mercenary groups, both of them."

"How do you recognize their styles?" Ember asked.

"The Chill wear markings of blue and white, while the Black Talons wear markings of red and black, often a black, taloned hand on red."

"We have seen those markings as well," Imoen said, glancing at Kivan. _I wonder if he already knew their name._

"Where did you last encounter the Black Talon bandits?" Kivan asked.

"Four of them attempted to ambush me this morning, by the river a few miles south of here," Drizzt said. "They are your particular prey, yes?"

Kivan nodded.

"We strive to return peace to these lands," Ajantis proclaimed.

"I see. A noble goal indeed, and one I would hold dear myself. With luck, you may even uncover the mastermind behind the raider, although you may find that task to be easier if you tread subtly in your dealings with these mercenaries."

"Pardon?" Ajantis said, appearing to be very confused by the drow's choice of words. Imoen didn't blame him.

"Fighting them is not necessarily the most fruitful road to travel. After all, it is doubtful their bodies will give you more than the most cursory hint at who their masters are."

"In other words, you think we should try to be sneaky," Imoen said.

"Yes."

"We thank you for your sage advice," Kivan said in polite yet clipped tones, "and we wish you well on your journey."

The drow straightened himself. "Well met, and may luck be on your side." He wrapped his cloak around him, sheathed his scimitars, and strode northward.

Imoen chuckled. "So that was the famous Drizzt Do'Urden. What did you think of him, Em?"

"Em?"

Imoen looked around and saw that her friend had walked a short distance away from the others and was gazing across the large meadow where they had fought. She walked towards Ember and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, whatcha doing?" Imoen asked.

Ember slowly turned towards her, then back towards the meadow. Imoen was sure it was normally a lovely, lively place with flowers and bees and rabbits, but today it was littered with gnoll corpses and broken halberds, gouged where a foot or a blow had landed on the grass, and stained red with blood. No birdsong came from the surrounding trees; instead, there was a steadily increasing buzzing of flies.

"This place looks like a battlefield," Imoen said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"This place **is** a battlefield," Ember said.


	12. Chapter 11: Curse

**Chapter 11: Curse**

From the distance it looked like yet another caravan that had fallen victim of bandits. They could see at least one dead horse and three dead men, and the remnants of a crushed wagon lay behind the bodies. The only piece that did not fit the puzzle was the pale-haired woman who was blocking the path to the wreck.

"Please," she cried, "I beg of you to go no further! Brage is there, strewn about with the carnage he has wrought. Please, unless you wish to witness madness in a once-good man, leave him be and pray the spirit leaves him in good time."

"Who is this Brage you speak of?" Kivan asked.

"I am his cousin, Laryssa," the woman said. "Before this curse befell him, he was Captain of the Guard in Nashkel; the finest Captain the town had ever seen. Two nights ago he flew into a rage and killed his wife and children. Then he killed all who saw him and ran away. I tracked him here, and I have tried to reason with him, but it is as if he is possessed by another's soul. It was all I could do to flee the swing of his tremendous blade."

Imoen gasped. "That's horrible!"

"Can nothing be done for him?" Ember asked.

"Watcher Nalin at the Temple told me that they may be able to help him if he is indeed under some evil influence, but Brage will not come. He will not heed me; when he sees me, he asks me a riddle I cannot answer, and attacks me for being as blind as he. Perhaps... perhaps there is no hope."

Ajantis reached out and gently took Laryssa's hand in his. "There must be something we can do, dear lady."

Laryssa paused, looked up the path behind her, and finally nodded. "He cannot go on like this. For all the bonds of love and blood, save him from his present agony if there be a way - any way - to do so."

"I understand. We shall do as you ask," Kivan said in a grim voice.

Tears filled the woman's eyes. "Come tell me when it is done," she said. She saluted them with her mace and stepped aside, allowing them up the path. Ajantis bowed deeply for her before heading towards the destroyed wagon, and the others followed suit.

"What is happening?" Imoen asked in a whisper.

"I think we're going to help him or kill him, Immy," Ember whispered back.

They were close enough to smell the decay when a wild-eyed man tottered out of the bushes. He was dressed in stained chainmail and a muddy tabard, and held a gleaming sword in his hands.

"I pray you left a trail of crumbs to lead us all back again. The others did not, so they have decided to stay," he said in a singsong voice, waving his sword casually at the dead bodies around him. "Shall we try to find the way home together? I pose to you a riddle, the answer to which I once knew, but now cannot perceive. Remind me, and we shall all return unto the day. Fail, and stay with me in the dark, forgetting whence we came..." His voice trailed off, and the light in his eyes changed. When he continued, his voice had dropped several notes and sounded as if from someone else.

"It has neither mouth, nor teeth; yet it eats its food steadily. It has neither village, nor home, nor hands, nor feet; yet it wanders everywhere. It has neither country, nor means, nor office, nor pen; yet it is ready for fight - always. By day and by night there is wailing about it. It has no breath, yet to all it appears."

"Could it be wind?" Imoen whispered to Ember. "No, I guess not; wind has a breath."

"And it is no creature," Kivan mumbled.

"It sounds as though it should be a battle, yet I know it is not," Ajantis said.

"War?" Kivan suggested.

Ember watched Brage as he slowly approached them. His sword all but glowed, and sunlight glinted off the curved points on the golden hilt. A beautiful weapon, by all means; beautiful and cruel. He stepped over one of his victims, treating the body as if it were no more than a slight unevenness in the terrain. _He doesn't care,_ Ember thought, _it's as if he's forgotten he's human. Did he even weep for his family?_

Slowly, the pieces began to fall into place. "There is wailing when people die," Ember murmured, "usually, anyway."

"And people don't want to die, so they fight it, but they lose and it eats them," Imoen murmured back.

"And death comes to everyone, everywhere," Ember concluded.

"That has to be the answer! Tell him, Em!"

Ember raised her voice. "Death," she said. The single word, spoken out loud, rang chillingly in the midday air.

Brage looked as though he had been struck. He dropped his sword and fell to his knees, his eyes roving the landscape of destruction around him. "The end of night," he moaned, "where the light shines unto mine eyes and I can see clearly once again! What hath I wrought!? 'Tis horrible, HORRIBLE! I will welcome the block that must await me at Nashkel! How could I live with what I've done!"

He crawled towards Ember and grabbed her hand in a pleading fashion. "Please, you must guide me to the town that I might pay for my crimes! I fear I can keep my senses for only so long, and I must not be allowed to do this again! Too many good people have lost their lives to me! Please..." His voice broke, and he sobbed loudly.

Ajantis stepped forward and placed a hand on Brage's shoulder. "Killing you will not help those that have died. We shall take you to the Temple of Helm, in hopes that you may be healed."

Brage sighed wearily. "I do not even know what led me to this; it's like a foul presence in my mind! Look at this place; innocent blood on everything!" He gestured towards his sword, which was laying in a muddy patch of the path. "I'd only just acquired that sword. And with it, I have wrought nothing but destruction. Take it and destroy it, that it might not harm another!"

Ember walked towards the sword. It was beautiful even when covered with muck, and she wondered briefly if perhaps she might be able to wield it, despite its size. The thought was quickly dismissed as she drew close enough to see the difference between the muck stains and the blood stains on the golden edges of the hilt, and she hurriedly wrapped the weapon in rags before strapping it on her back.

"Cousin!" Laryssa shouted. She was running towards them, closely followed by Kivan.

"Dearest Laryssa! What have I done?" Brage hugged her forcefully, weeping on her shoulder. "Take me to Nashkel, my friends, I can bear this no longer."

-.-.-

They arrived in Nashkel in the deepest hours of night. The streets were quiet, and the only lights were from the windows of what Laryssa told them were the inn and the temple, and from the torches in the hands of the guards patrolling the main street.

"Identify yourselves!" one of the guards demanded as they crossed the main bridge into town.

"Bardolan, it is I, Brage."

"Commander! Er... are you...?"'

"These people have saved me, and I come to repent."

"We're taking him to the Temple, unless you object," Kivan said.

The guard snorted. "And hand him over to Oublek for the bounty? Nay, I'll escort you to the Temple myself."

Bardolan led them through the empty streets to a tall marble building with windows made of stained glass. "Beautiful," Imoen whispered as they walked up a path lined with white stones towards the carved doors. They were greeted by one of the clerks, who led them into the main chamber and went to fetch Nalin.

Brage glanced nervously around the room. His eyes found the symbol of Helm at the altar, and he looked away with a shudder. "I cannot show my face here after what I've done! Just give me to the guard that I might take my punishment as I should! Do not disgrace me further in front of Helm!"

"Calm yourself, Brage," a calm, pleasant voice said from behind them. High Watcher Nalin was entering the room, pulling his robes on. "Helm sees all that he wishes, and knows much of what you do not. It was your hands indeed that did many a foul deed, but it was not your will alone. Intent is vital, and yours was influenced without your knowledge. Justice will be done, but with atonement, not punishment."

"But my crimes... my family... how can I go on?"

The High Watcher approached Brage and gently put a hand on his shoulder, performing a gesture of blessing with his other hand. "If you are returned to the garrison, yours will be the only willful killing that has occurred about this matter. It would be a waste of your life which, fractured though it is, can still contribute much."

Brage's knees buckled, and he fell to the floor, weeping. "Helm will see you through, my child," Nalin told Brage, embracing the broken man as he wept.

Brage soon calmed down, and the priest released him. He stood next to his cousin, holding her hand and seemingly admiring the patterns of the marble floor.

A clerk appeared in a doorway. "Ah, there you are. My intrepid friends," the High Watcher told Ember and her party, "I intend to exceed the reward offered by Oublek. After all, it was the same task of bringing Brage to justice, and the Temple is in your debt for the return of its lost son."

"Thanks!" Imoen said, loudly enough to drown out Ajantis's muttered protestations that it was merely their duty. The clerk silently handed Imoen a coin purse, which she happily accepted.

"Now, we have further business this eve," Nalin said. "Did you bring Brage's sword with you?"

Ember untied the bundle from her back and handed it to the priest. He deftly removed the wrappings and held his hands over the sword, closing his eyes.

"Have you handled this sword, my child?" he asked Ember.

"Handled? I don't think so. I just wrapped it in the rags and put it on my back. I haven't tried to wield it."

"I thought not; this sword is deeply cursed, you see. All who wield it will succumb to a berserker fury, as our Brage has done."

Ember swallowed. She **had** wanted to try it; if she hadn't noticed the blood on it, she probably would have.

"I... I bought it from a travelling salesman at the carnival," Brage whispered. "It wasn't from here, so I thought it would not crumble..."

"Do you remember who the salesman was?" Nalin asked, his voice still gentle.

"Tranzig, I think his name was. Tall pale fellow, wore black... Please, destroy the sword, it has brought me nothing but pain."

"Of course, my child," the priest said. He muttered a lengthy incantation, and the sword crumbled to dust.

"We shall search the carnival for this Tranzig at first light," Bardolan said. He bowed deeply. "Thank you, High Watcher, for solving this puzzle; and thank you, honored adventurers, for bringing our commander back to us."

"Thank you again for all you have done for us," Laryssa said. "I shall stay here with Brage. Here, take this gold and go to the inn; this should be enough for the best rooms."

This time, Ajantis got the first word in. "Thank you for your generous offer, miss, but we have already been rewarded sufficiently."

"We will take your suggestion about the inn, of course," Ember said, stifling a yawn.

Laryssa smiled. "You are good people. May the gods look kindly upon you all."

-.-.-

The newest patron of the inn ordered a simple meal of bread, some ale, a small cup of water and a handful of grains, and yawned mightily. It had been a long walk from the Cloudpeak Mountains, and he had not paused all day. The delay grieved him sorely. The trail might go cold, and one day might be more than he could afford to spare, but it was necessary. He looked around the room and sized up the other patrons; none of them would do, he conceded with a sigh as the meal arrived.

There was much he did not know, but there was one thing he was certain of:

They could not rescue his charge alone.


	13. Chapter 12: And then there were Six

**Chapter 12: And then there were Six**

The Nashkel inn was a simple lumber building, significantly smaller than both the Friendly Arm and the Jovial Juggler in Beregost, and at this late hour, there were only a handful of people in the common room. One of them was a very tall, very large, and very bald man. He was dressed in pale brown leggings and a tunic which was partially covered by a damaged leather cuirass. His head was tattooed, and a large sword hung at his side. This mountain of a man had stood up from his table when they entered, and was walking towards them. Ember steeled herself. _Another bounty hunter?_

"I agree Boo, they look to be friendly," she heard the man mutter to himself. _Or another madman?_

As he drew close, the man smiled at them. "Greetings, we are Minsc and Boo. Boo was wondering: might you be adventurers?" he asked in a deep, oddly accented voice.

"Who is Boo?" Imoen asked.

"This is Boo," the man said, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a small yellow animal, "the only miniature giant space hamster in the Realm!"

"Aww, he's adorable!" Imoen exclaimed. "Can I pet him?"

The giant held out his hands. The hamster sniffed Imoen's fingers, squeaked twice, and let itself be petted. "He likes you," Minsc said as Imoen cooed over the small furry creature.

"You asked if we were adventurers; we are," Kivan said.

"And do you stomp the toes of evil till they are sore and red?" Minsc asked.

Ember chuckled. "I guess you could say that."

"That is good news, for we are in need of assistance! My charge Dynaheir was taken from us in the Cloudpeak mountains. It was gnolls, many gnolls; too many for us. They pushed Minsc and Boo off a cliff and stole our Dynaheir!"

"Poor Dynaheir!" Imoen said, still petting the hamster.

"If you come with us, we shall track them down and beat sense into their heads until they release her! Will you come?" the man asked with pleading eyes.

Ember saw Kivan and Ajantis exchange glances and nod at each other. When Kivan looked questioningly at her, she nodded as well. This Minsc might be a bit ...touched, and his size and the purple tattoos on his bald head did make him look rather menacing, but he seemed friendly and honest enough. And after what she'd seen of gnolls so far, she wouldn't wish his charge's fate upon anyone.

"How could anyone decline?" Ajantis said.

"We shall travel with you on the morrow," Kivan said, "and I shall help you track them."

"Oh happy day!" Minsc cried. "Bards will sing the deeds of Minsc and Boo... and friends!"

"Happy day indeed," a cold female voice said behind them. They all turned around. A woman dressed in chainmail and a red cape stood in the doorway, smirking at them. "Just fancy my luck seeing you stroll in here, bold as day! I expected a hunt and a chase from the description, but who am I to argue with easy coins in the purse?" the woman said, raising a bright red shield and a sturdy wooden club. "May the Lord of Shadows-urk!"

With one swift movement, Minsc had reached out and grabbed the the woman by her throat. Her feet were not touching the ground. She had dropped her club and shield, and was clawing at Minsc's giant fist in an attempt to break free.

"Boo does not like you!" Minsc bellowed. "You are an evil little woman!"

"Do not harm her," Kivan said, "she might know something."

Minsc lowered the woman enough to let her stand on the floor, and shoved her against the wall. Ember darted under Minsc's arm and snagged a leather pouch from the woman's belt while Minsc told the woman she was an evil girl who probably killed little birds and stepped on kittens.

The pouch held small coin purse, some savoury cakes wrapped in a handkerchief, and a rolled-up parchment. Ember pulled out the parchment and unrolled it. "Be it known to all those of evil intent," she read out loud, "that a bounty has been placed upon the head of Ember, the foster child of Gorion. Last seen in the region of Beregost, this person is to be killed in quick order. The subject is to be considered a formidable foe, and is likely to have well-equipped travelling companions."

"So now we're formidable," Imoen said with a grin.

"Yeah, but these people of evil intent are still only offering six hundred and eighty for me. Why, our gear is worth more than that!"

"Where did you get this?" Kivan asked the woman. Minsc released his grip on her throat. Glaring at Kivan, the woman rapidly began chanting a spell, but she stopped halfway through when the tip of Ajantis's sword pressed against her belly.

"Where did you get this?" Kivan repeated.

"Fools!" the woman hissed. "Why should I let you know? They'll kill me if I tell!"

Ember drew her own sword and lightly placed the tip on the woman's bruised throat. "If they find you, perhaps they will. But if you don't tell me what I want to know, you'll die now. Trust me on that," she said with a harsh smile, "I've seen four assassins dead already."

The woman glanced at Ember. The rage in her eyes vanished; instead, she turned pale and swallowed. "Tranzig," she whispered. "Tranzig gave me the notice."

_The man who sold Brage his sword?_ "Where is he now?" Ember asked.

"I-I don't know! I got the notice at the carnival last week; he might be anywhere by now!"

"Nonsense; how would you claim the bounty if you don't know where to claim it?"

"He said to leave a sealed note for him with the innkeeper and he'd contact me if I succeeded! I really don't know where he is! Please, don't kill me!"

"Relax, we won't," Ember told the woman. "Ajantis, would you fetch the guards?"

The young paladin complied promptly, and less than five minutes later the trembling woman was handed over to the authorities. Bardolan was with the guards, and they gave him the latest bounty notice as evidence against the woman, along with a recount of what Ember had been up against since leaving Candlekeep. Minsc listened to the conversation with a wide-eyed expression, and Bardolan was clearly dismayed.

"It seems our spring carnival has unknowingly harbored a true criminal," Bardolan said. "It seems unlikely that we will find Tranzig still there in the morning, but there may yet be information to gather from the carnival grounds. You are welcome to aid us if you wish."

"Normally, we would be glad to," Ajantis said, glancing at Ember, "but I believe we must aid our new friend in finding his charge first."

"Don't worry, I agree," Ember said. _At least I have a true lead now; following it can wait a few days._ "Bardolan, do you mind if we inquire about Tranzig when we're done with our task?"

"Not at all, good lady," Bardolan said. He then made his farewells and followed his guards out of the inn. The door closed, and they found they were all but alone in the room; all the other patrons had either gone home or gone to their rooms, and the only other person in the room was the innkeeper, who was quietly cleaning mugs behind his counter.

"You were pretty scary there, Em," Imoen said.

"Really?"

"You should have seen the look on your face; for a moment I thought you really were going to kill her!"

"Oh?" Ember said, baffled that she had fooled even Imoen. _I must be a better actor than I thought._ "I wouldn't have. You know that, right?"

"Of course," Imoen said. "You just looked creepy. And besides, it worked!"

Ember smiled. "Yeah. And Minsc was great, too, catching her like that."

Minsc beamed. "I am happy to help my new friends, even when I don't know their names yet."

"Oh, that is easily fixed," Imoen said. "I'm Imoen and she's Ember, and we're from Candlekeep. This is Ajantis, and he's from Waterdeep, and this is Kivan from Shilmista."

"And I am from Rashemen, as is Dynaheir."

"Isn't Rashemen far away to the east?" Imoen asked.

"Yes, very far, but Dynaheir said we had to travel here, so we did. My task is to watch her, and... and to bring her home safe." The large man's face fell as he spoke of his charge, and there was a wet glitter in his eyes.

"I'm sure she'll be all right," Imoen said, putting a hand on Minsc's arm. "We'll get her back from those gnolls. You'll see."

-.-.-

They spent a fair amount of the following morning in the store next to the inn. The shopkeeper was an amiable man who engaged them with small talk as he searched for the gear they requested. Upon learning that they would be travelling in the Cloudpeak mountains, he advised them to keep an eye out for winter wolves. While they were extremely aggressive and far more dangerous than normal wolves, their luxuriant pelts were highly prized. It'd be more than worth their while to skin any such beasts that might attack them, he told them as he searched one storage room after another for a suit of armour large enough to fit Minsc.

"Ah, here we go," the shopkeeper finally exclaimed, carrying an old suit of chainmail out of the third storage room. The armour smelled a bit musty and the links were dulled by age, but it showed few marks of rust and damage, and when Minsc tried it on, it needed only a few minor adjustments for him to wear it comfortably. A faded blue tabard of similar size had been folded up along with the mail, and the shopkeeper offered it to Minsc for no extra charge.

The store carried no swords or daggers due to the iron crisis, but it did offer a selection of bows and arrows. Minsc had lost his bow in the mountains, and Imoen helped him find a new one. "I think I just found a bow for Boo," Imoen said, holding up a short bow similar to the one she herself used.

Minsc chuckled. "Boo needs nothing but his sharp hamster teeth to fight evil, but if he used a bow, that would be a good one for him," he said, taking the bow from Imoen's outstretched hands and pretending to draw it. Imoen giggled loudly; the bow looked just like a toy in Minsc's hands.

"Perhaps one of these would be better?" Ajantis suggested, guiding them to a stand of composite bows. Made out of several different types of wood, the bows were larger, sturdier and stronger than even Kivan's long bow. Minsc eyed the bows eagerly and pulled the largest bow from the stand. He stringed and drew it, testing the flexibility of the wood.

"This is a very good bow," Minsc exclaimed after a brief test. "The gnolls would run far away if I poked their backsides with this!"

"Then that is the bow we're buying!" Imoen told an elated Minsc.

While they purchased the chainmail, the bow, arrows, a few spare waterbags and other small items for their upcoming mountain trip, Ember and Kivan were quietly talking in a corner of the store.

"You are still certain?" Kivan asked.

"Yes, I am still certain," Ember said. Kivan did not agree with her decision to not replace her broken bow, and had asked her to reconsider several times in the past days. She just didn't see the point; Ajantis got along fine without a bow, and she hadn't missed hers in the time that had passed since she lost it. No, she didn't miss having to disentangle it from her back and juggle arrows whenever she wanted to use it, or having the quiver get in the way of her swordplay. She certainly did not miss having her arm broken when she was too busy notching an arrow and aiming at one ogre to notice the other one running up beside her.

Kivan sighed. "I will only ask one thing, then. Learn to use that," he said, indicating the smooth white wooden staff that Ember had taken from Silke. They hadn't found a willing buyer for it so far, and Ember had been using it as a walking stick, dropping it on the ground whenever there was combat.

Ember smiled, relieved that he was conceding defeat at last. "Fair enough; Ajantis said he knew a little about fighting with staves, so I'll ask him to show me tomorrow."

"Good. And Ember?"

"Yes?"

A hint of a smile crossed Kivan's face. "Ask him about his weapons instructors when you do. You may find it interesting, if you feel I have been harsh with you."

Ember laughed. "Oh, he's told me all about them already. Sir Keldorn Firecam, Myrmith Splendon, and a number of others. But you know what he also told me? That they ceased his archery training when it became clear that the bow would never feel truly at home in his hands, and focused his training on other weapons instead."

"Just remember that it must have taken them more than a tenday to reach that conclusion," Kivan said. The others had packed their purchases and were leaving the store. Ember and Kivan followed them out into the foggy spring day and down the road that lead south, towards the mountains.


	14. Chapter 13: Attrition and Lost Puppies

**Chapter 13: Of Attrition and Lost Puppies**

The leather chewtoy the child had given them was as long as Ember's upper arm. "I think we should have asked Albert exactly how large Rufie is," she told Kivan. They'd been asked to look for a puppy with black fur and shining eyes, but if the bitemarks on the chewtoy were anything to go by, the lost puppy would be the size of a small pony.

"For a small child, a dog will often be a puppy at any age," Kivan said. "We are probably looking for a large dog that has been trained to watch over the child."

"If that is the case, the dog isn't exactly doing its job today," Imoen said.

"Boo thinks the puppy is Albert's playfriend," Minsc said, "for friends come in all sizes." He reached to his tunic collar where Boo was nestled in a small pocket, and patted the hamster's head affectionately.

They walked past a stand of blooming fruit trees and headed towards a gully between two lengthy outcroppings of rock. Every few minutes, one of them - usually Imoen - would shout the dog's name, but the only answering sounds were the twittering of birds and the gentle clucking of the nearby river.

"I have not found any dog tracks yet," Kivan said. "It is probably in a different area."

"Maybe it's just good at hiding," Imoen said. "RUFIE!"

This time, she was answered. "Travellers from the north, halt!" a woman cried. She walked towards them at a brisk pace from the lower end of the gully, escorted by two men with longbows. The woman herself wielded a very elegant-looking sword.

"You trespass quite deep into Amnish territory," the woman said with a sneer. "Perhaps you have come to spy upon our supposed troop build up. It's quite funny, the stupid notions you northern barbarians can get stuck in your heads."

"Are you saying that Amn does not threaten Baldur's Gate?" Ajantis asked.

"Of course not. Our mighty nation has better things to do than attack some self important barbarian city." The woman waved a hand dismissively. "Anyhow, take our advice, and go back from whence you came."

"We will be going nowhere. We have as much right to be here as you do," Ember said.

The woman laughed. "Why, it seems that we have stumbled upon some berserkers. I had suspected as much when I caught your scent a few moments ago, but your behavior clinches it. Delgod! Alexander! Let us make short work of these peasants!"

"Are you mad?" Ember said. The men drew their bows, and the woman advanced on them with raised sword and shield.

"Deal with the archers first," Kivan muttered.

"Boo will teach them some manners," Minsc exclaimed as he unsheathed his sword and charged towards one of the Amnian archers. "Go for the eyes, Boo!"

_I'm glad he's on my side,_ Ember thought as she ran to join Minsc. His target managed to fire two arrows before the giant man fell upon him. At first, the archer blocked Minsc's attacks with his bow, but then a powerful slash broke his bow in two; the pieces flew apart as the tension in the string was released, and one of the broken ends struck the archer's eyes. The man staggered backwards, clutching his face.

The next swing of Minsc's sword cut the archer down.

The second archer had exchanged his bow with a spear, which he was using to ward off Ember's attacks. She noticed quickly that he was merely defending himself; he was slowly backing away from her, and every few seconds he would glance towards the giant man who was hacking away at his comrade. When his friend fell and the giant turned to look at him, bellowing something about little hamster feet trampling his butt, the archer's nerve broke. He shoved Ember away with a final thrust of his spear, threw the weapon aside and ran as fast as his legs could carry him into the woods north of the gully.

The woman was locked in a duel with Ajantis. They circled each other, lashing out with their swords and blocking the other with their shields, moving so rapidly that Imoen and Kivan could not attempt to fire arrows at the woman. The fighters were evenly matched, and their circling only ended when the woman struck Ajantis's sword with enough force to snap the blade. Ajantis lost his balance and fell to the ground. The woman stood over him, gloating. "Barbarians," she said with a harsh laugh, raising her sword to strike.

"You leave him alone, you bufflehead!" Imoen shouted. One, two, three magic missiles hit the woman's chest before Imoen's wand broke from the strain. The missiles served their purpose, though; the woman was spun around and knocked a couple steps away from Ajantis. Before she could fully regain her footing, Kivan swung his war hammer at her. Sparks flew as it hit her squarely in the chest, and the air smelled like a thunderstorm. Another blow of the hammer, and the woman lay sprawled on the ground. Her sword lay on the ground just out of her reach, and Imoen picked it up before she could reclaim it.

"This is a pretty sword," Imoen said. "Guys, have you seen anything like it before?"

"Indeed I have, miss," Ajantis said. "It is a variant of the basic sword, but made from stronger, more durable metal. It is lightly enchanted as well; it will not break or tarnish, and will afflict even magical creatures. It is quite popular amongst those who can afford it."

"I see," Imoen said, studying the sword closely before tossing it to Ajantis. "And now it is yours," she told him.

"Miss Imoen, I am not sure we can -"

"She attacked us, and she broke your sword. It's only fair."

"Thieving scum," the woman muttered, glaring at Imoen.

"Oh really? Well, if you'll insist," Imoen said, "then I want your armour, too."

"Miss Imoen!" Ajantis protested.

"No, I agree," Ember said. "Spoils of battle and all that. And maybe it'll teach certain fine Amnians to not go around picking fights with peasants?" She walked over to the woman and gestured at her with her sword till the woman grudgingly took her armour off. Imoen had a good eye, Ember thought. The armour was made of smooth, lightweight leather in clear red and brown hues, and felt slightly warm in the way she associated with her white staff. Clearly, they would have to have it examined for magic properties as soon as possible.

The woman hissed and cursed as she retrieved a plain war hammer from the body of the fallen archer. Her complaints ranged from what her armour had cost to the body odours of Ajantis and the others to the uselessness of her fallen bodyguard. The tirade was only halted by the sound of a distant scream. It was the sound of a human in mortal terror, and it came from the woods north of their position.

The woman's face fell at the sound, replacing her scowl with a worried expression. "Delgod?" she asked in a low voice.

"You should leave these hills," Kivan told the deflated woman. "Do not follow him. Go to your nearest allies, and avoid conflict if you can."

The woman nodded quietly, bit her lip, and turned to run southwards.

"I'm almost sorry we took her armour," Imoen said as she watched the woman leave.

"Her friend wore more armour than she did," Ember pointed out. "If he was the one screaming, her leathers wouldn't make a difference."

"Is anyone injured?" Ajantis asked.

Most of them had suffered nothing worse than the usual array of scrapes, cuts and bruises; Minsc had suffered the only major injury. "They had good arrows," he explained, indicating an arrow that had penetrated his armour and was embedded deep in his thigh. Blood was slowly seeping through the tarnished chainmail. "But Boo is well." As on cue, the hamster stuck its head out from the pouch on Minsc's tunic and squeaked.

Kivan and Ajantis immediately went to work on Minsc's leg. It was a few minutes' work to remove the arrow from his leg, but Minsc bore it patiently. Once the obstacle was removed, Ajantis lay his hands over the wound and healed it in a flash of blue light. Minsc immediately stood up and tested his leg. "Yes, this is good," he said after a few experimental kicks and stamps. "Minsc can plant his boot in the buttocks of evil again now!"

"Um, guys," Imoen said, "I think we are being watched..." She nodded towards the north edge of the gully.

They were indeed being watched. A large creature sat underneath one of the blooming trees, growling at them with bared teeth. It appeared to be a dog, but it was a dog the size of a small cart. Its black, shaggy fur was bristling with raised hackles, and its eyes glowed with fury.

"By the gods," Ember whispered.

"A hellhound if ever I saw one," Ajantis muttered.

"Be quiet; it may attack any moment," Kivan said, reaching very slowly for his bow.

"Boo wonders why it is here," Minsc said quietly. "He thinks the hound should be somewhere that is not under the trees with the pretty flowers."

"You don't suppose..." Imoen said, rummaging in her bag. She pulled out the chewtoy Albert had given them, and waved it tentatively in the direction of the hound. The hound ceased its growling, and its ears perked visibly.

"Rufie?" Imoen called out. The hound stood up and approached them in a normal gait, wagging its tail and panting.

"Well, I never!" Ajantis exclaimed. "A hellhound and a child? What is the meaning of this?"

"There's only one way to find out!" Imoen said.

-.-.-

"RUFIE!"

The boy ran gleefully past them and wrapped his little arms around the hellhound. "Who's a fuzzy Rufie? Whoooooo's a fuzzy little guy?" he cooed into the hound's ragged pelt, grabbing handfuls of the long black strands and running his fingers through them. The hound barked happily in a series of deep woofs that resonated in the air around them.

Having greeted his pet sufficiently, Albert stood up and addressed Imoen. "Thank you just ever so much," he said. "I better take this lost little puppy home right away. Here, take this. It's another of his chew things, but we can get more where we're going." The boy was holding out a large, well-gnawed bone which looked suspiciously like a human femur.

Imoen took a step backwards. "Thank you, but that's not necessary, I'm just glad we found him for you, you know?" she said. "Here's the one you gave us earlier," she continued, holding the leather chewtoy out to the boy.

"Thanks. You are sure you do not want it? It is a very good toy."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Really."

"Oh well. I am certain Rufie won't mind. Thanks again." The boy bowed before Imoen, then before Ember. With a smile and a brief gesture, he proceeded to conjure something that looked like nothing more than a glimmering mirrow with a bottomless pit on the other side.

"Time to go home, Rufie," the boy told his dog, placing an arm on the animal's shoulder. "You'll like the Nine Hells much better than these cold climes." The animal leapt through the glimmering portal, and the boy followed closely behind him. For a split second before he vanished into the smooth surface, Albert's form seemed to shift. He was taller, much taller, his skin turned darker and redder, and there was a hint of wings and horns about him. Then he was gone, and a split second later, the portal was gone too.

"By Helm," Ajantis said. "We have aided a monster."

"At least he was a nice monster," Imoen said. "And... Rufie really was the size of a puppy, compared to him..."

The five of them stared at the spot where the portal had appeared for quite a while before moving onwards.


	15. Chapter 14: Ice and Fire

**Chapter 14: Ice and Fire**

Appropriately enough, the two winter wolves had attacked during a light snowfall. A grueling battle had followed; they had all felt the chill of the wolves' icy breath at least once before the beasts were dealt with.

"Why would anyone want to hunt those on purpose?" Imoen asked while Ajantis applied his healing powers to her injured shoulder.

"Because they are magical," Kivan said, kneeling over the wolf corpses. "Come see." They all gathered around Kivan. He pointed at the pure white pelt of one of the wolves. "Do you see it?"

"No, what's to see?" Ember asked.

Kivan ruffled the fur, sending up a shower of ice crystals. "Snow does not melt on them. And if you see here, their blood does not wet the fur. But that is not all; touch them."

Ember and Imoen both reached out and touched the pelt. "It's warm!" Imoen exclaimed, burying her fingers in the soft fur.

"Indeed it is. Such a pelt will keep anyone warm and dry throughout the coldest winter. And its colour is unmatched."

Ajantis gingerly touched one of the dead wolves. "Amazing!" he exclaimed.

"It seems a shame to have this go to waste," Ember said as she stroked one of the soft, snow-coloured pelts.

"I should be able to skin them in a matter of minutes," Kivan said, pulling out his dagger. "Minsc, are you familiar with skinning?"

Minsc nodded and produced a dagger of his own. "The Ice Dragon Berserker Lodge at home hunts winter wolves in mild weather," he said as he cut a line down the belly of one of the wolves. The skin beneath the fur was very dark, and was easily separated from the underlying tissues. "I got a fur for my witch before my dajemma," he continued proudly.

"Your witch?" Ajantis asked.

"Your dajemma?" Imoen asked.

"My dajemma? It is a test, and when I complete it, I shall be a man. I must follow and guard Dynaheir wherever she takes me, and when I am ready, she will let me know. "

"So Dynaheir is your witch?"

"Little Imoen is wise! Yes, my Dynaheir is one of the wychalarn. She is very clever, and she knows very much about magic. She helps Minsc as much as Minsc helps her."

"She sounds like a good witch," Ember said.

"A very good witch," Minsc said somberly.

-.-.-

The snowfall had long since ended when they came across two men. They were sitting at a small fire in the shelter of a rock outcropping, and appeared to be roasting a brace of rabbits. As they drew closer, one of the men stood up and approached them. He carried a halberd, but was using the weapon as a walking stick, and his whole demeanour appeared rather unthreatening.

"Hey there fellas," he said amiably, leaning casually on the halberd pole. "Seems like your party's wandered a bit off the beaten path."

"Sometimes, the beaten path doesn't lead where you need to be," Ember said.

"True, that," the man replied. "Well, it's too bad for you, cause you've had the misfortune of meeting the fastest draw in the west. See that man over yonder?" He gestured towards his comrade, who was still sitting in front of the fire. "His name's Zal, and he's the fastest dart thrower that has ever walked the Sword Coast. Now, if I were you, I wouldn't want to test the patience of such a man. So why don't you do the wise thing and hand over all your money. Otherwise you're going to be in a heap of trouble."

Ember scoffed at the man's boast. "The fastest dart thrower in the west? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of."

"You don't say?" the man said. "Hear that, Zal? Seems they don't take you seriously! Guess it's time to show what for, huh?" he shouted at his companion, who got to his feet and sauntered towards them.

"Sorry guys, but you're in for a world of hurt," the first man said before taking two steps to the side.

Something whistled through the air. Imoen gasped, sounding as though she had been punched hard in the gut. Ember turned towards her friend and immediately forgot all about the impending fight.

Imoen was clutching her belly and staggering unsteadily; a very large wooden dart had pierced her leather armour and embedded itself deep in her upper abdomen. "Ow," she whimpered as she fell to her knees.

"Immy!" Ember shrieked. The shouts of their companions - Ajantis calling out to Helm and Minsc bellowing something about Boo going for their eyes - had a dreamlike quality; while Ember heard every word, it was as if the sound came to her through a mile of water. Wasting no time, she kneeled beside Imoen and examined the wound. It was very deep, and the edges pulled open around the dart with every breath Imoen took.

"I feel so cold," Imoen whispered.

"You'll be all right, Immy, we'll get it out and get you fixed in no time," Ember said, daubing helplessly at the wound with her cloak. Blood seeped out of the wound every time it gaped open, and there was a trickle of blood on Imoen's pale lips. _One thing at a time. Get the dart out, then healing potion._ She pulled her flasks of healing potion out of her sack and placed them on the ground beside Imoen for easy access. "Immy, I am going to pull it out now. Are you ready?" Imoen nodded weakly.

As gently as she could, Ember eased the dart out of the wound. It wouldn't budge at first, and there was a horrible sucking sound, similar to a pole in mud, when it finally came loose. Imoen groaned with pain, and a fresh gush of blood streamed out of the wound. _So much blood... please, don't die!_ Ember instinctively pressed down on the gushing wound with both hands.

Ember's hands felt as though they were on fire. The burning sensation rushed up her arms, blossoming into a giant flame in her chest; for a moment, she could not breathe. The flames rushed back into her hands and burst out of them in a blue flash.

"What was that?!" Imoen asked in a loud, agitated voice.

"I-I don't know!" Ember said. She slowly took her hands away from Imoen's belly. The wound was no longer bleeding at all, and it was considerably smaller than it had been mere moments ago. Somehow, it had been reduced to a shallow cut surrounded by some mild bruising. Colour had returned to Imoen's face as well.

The two girls stared at each other.

The sounds of battle died off soon after, and Ajantis hurried towards Ember and Imoen. "Miss Imoen, is all well?" he asked, kneeling beside her to assess her injuries. "Ah, that is fine work, miss Ember, but I believe she should have a little more potion, just to be certain."

"I haven't had any," Imoen said in a low voice.

"But how -"

"She healed me. With her hands."

Ajantis turned towards Ember. "You did this? I was not aware that you had any priestly inclinations."

"I don't! And I don't know how I did it. It just happened."

"Strange. Could you describe it more closely?"

"I was pushing on the wound to stop the blood. My hands and chest felt like they caught on fire, and then the fire went from my hands and into Imoen in a blue flash, and the cut was like this."

Ajantis furrowed his brow. "Healing spells are usually associated with a blue glow, but I have not heard of any that feel like fire to the caster. In my experience, and from what the priests in my Order have told me, it is more common that the caster feels a benevolent sensation, such as light or cleansing water, flowing through them as they channel the healing power. Also, even my simple healing abilities require a brief incantation. This is most curious."

"Do you think it's dangerous?" Ember asked nervously.

"I honestly cannot say, miss, but you do not appear to be harmed by the experience. Do you think you could do it again?"

"No," Ember stated. "I can't explain how I know it, but I can't repeat it. Not yet, at least."

"Ah," Ajantis said, "I have a similar awareness of my own gift from the Watcher. I suspect you are unknowingly blessed by some power; you would not be the first human to receive such a gift."

"Ember, maybe one of your parents were Chosen?" Imoen suggested. She had drunk a few mouthfuls of healing potion while they talked, and her wound had disappeared completely.

Ember smiled. _We never went __**that**__ far with our pretending games._ "If they were, I hope they were the Chosen of a nice power."

"I would not worry about that, miss. Your gift is clearly of a benevolent nature. Now, let us go reassure Kivan and Minsc," Ajantis said, gesturing towards their two companions who were watching them from the battlesite.

-.-.-

They inspected the bodies before moving on. The man with the halberd had been carrying two potions of healing, and the dart thrower was wearing some decidedly magical bracers. Kivan added the potions to their cache, and carefully removed the bracers from the dead man's wrists. "I would not be surprised if these aided him. No human of his build should be able to throw darts quite like that," he said.

"Speaking of magical items," Imoen said, "I think I should try wearing that leather armour we got yesterday."

"But we don't know its enchantment yet," Ember protested. "It's not safe!"

Imoen looked her squarely in the eye. "Look, I've been thinking about this. All I know is that it looked like it'd fit me, and that this set is ruined, and that if the wolves and fastest dartsmen in the west are going to insist on attacking me first, I want to be a bit more protected. I know that woman was weird, but she stayed that way even after you took the armour from her, so it probably isn't cursed. And you can just knock me out if I go nuts and start challenging the squirrels to unarmed combat, you know."

Minsc and Boo can watch you," the giant man offered. "If the armour makes you do bad things, we can tie you up safely and then carry you somewhere to be fixed. Minsc has a strong back and can easily carry a small Imoen, and Boo can sing you little songs to make you happy again."

Imoen smiled happily at Minsc. "Thank you! I'd love to hear Boo sing."

"That armour did appear to be stronger than yours, even when yours was not damaged," Ajantis said.

"I agree," Kivan said. "It is a risk, but so is going into battle with inadequate gear."

"Very well," Ember said. She opened her pack, pulled out the soft leather armour, and handed it to Imoen. Imoen pulled off her old, torn armour, hesitated for a moment, then visibly steeled herself and put on the magical set. It was a near perfect fit.

"Well," Imoen said, "I don't feel any different. The only change is that it's so much lighter and more comfortable than my old armour. It's almost no heavier than just wearing a tunic or a dress!"

Ember smiled with relief. "You don't look different either, other than prettier. It suits you."

They continued onward through the wild, rocky landscape; past rambling thickets, across shallow streams with many beds, over crumbling patches of unmelted winter snow, through giant archways carved from sandstone by wind and weather, always following the tracks of the gnolls deeper into the mountains. They saw no more wolves and no more people.

By evening, they could see a large, haphazard jumble of walls and towers in the distance ahead of them. The buildings were rendered more visible by their lengthening shadows, and the whole construction glowed red in the light of the setting sun.

"A gnoll fortress," Kivan said.


	16. Chapter 15: The Gnoll Fortress

**Chapter 15: The Gnoll Fortress**

The weathered sandstone cliffs ended abruptly. A deep river had slowly worn a gash in the landscape, and water rushed past at a breakneck pace below the narrow path they'd followed for the past hour. A single rickety bridge spanned the river, and the path continued onwards on the other side through a similar rocky landscape.

"So, who wants to cross first?" Ember asked.

"I'll go," Imoen said. She stepped daintily out on the bridge. Ignoring the rope rails, she stretched out her arms and walked with exaggerated, delicate steps in a straight line, as if she were a tight rope artist at a fair. She had crossed half the bridge in this manner when two large, ugly heads, covered with shaggy dark hair, appeared behind a rock outcropping at the far end. Imoen immediately dropped her arms to her sides and halted.

"Half-ogres," Kivan muttered. "We should avoid fighting if we can; it is not safe here."

"Stop!" one of the half-ogres called out to Imoen. "You go nowhere! This our bridge, you pay to walk it!"

"Yeah, you pay!" the second half-ogre added. "Two hundred for all heads, or lose heads!"

Imoen turned and looked questioningly at the others. Kivan nodded. Imoen shrugged and turned back to the half ogres.

"Fine, we'll pay!" she called out to them.

"Okay! You pass, right?" the second half-ogre replied.

"No!" the first half-ogre exclaimed. "They pay 200 gold pretty quick! Maybe got more gold! Maybe rich!"

"Yeah, you smart! We take heads anyway, and get lots gold!"

"Great," Imoen mumbled. She turned and started to run back to her friends before the half-ogres even set foot on the bridge, the planks creaking in protest beneath her with every step. The bridge swayed threateningly with the heavy tread of the half-ogres as they stomped on to it, and Imoen almost lost her balance in her last few steps on the bridge. As soon as she reached solid rock, she dodged sideways; Kivan and Minsc had readied their bows and began shooting arrows at the attackers as soon as Imoen was out of the line of fire. One of the two was felled rapidly, but the other dodged most of the arrows with a surprising ease and made it all the way across the bridge before being cut down by Ember and Ajantis.

"At least we know the bridge can handle us, now," Imoen said.

Kivan quietly bent over the closest of the dead half-ogres and examined the body. The half-ogre had somehow obtained a pair of magical bracers, but had little else of note; Kivan removed the bracers and put them in his pack. "We must have these identified later. I suspect they will be of use," he said.

"There does not appear to be any more of them," Ajantis announced.

"Let them come!" Minsc cried. "Minsc and Boo will take care of anyone who blocks their path to Dynaheir, with sword and teeth!"

-.-.-

The path was labyrinthine. It twisted and turned between rocky outcroppings and along narrow ledges, split, rejoined itself, and led them astray. They made several wrong turns down paths that appeared to lead directly to the fortress but instead only brought them to caves full of xvarts. The diminiutive blue creatures would invariably charge them with shrill cries as they brandished short swords; some of the xvarts would even be waving spell scrolls around, seemingly trying to activate the magic by shaking the parchment. The outcome of these encounters was always the same; the xvarts would attack and be cut down till only a few were left, whereupon the last ones would lose their nerve and run away. The xvarts were not able to significantly injure them, but the skirmishes were time-consuming and wore down everyone's patience, Minsc's in particular.

"We take too long!" Minsc said as he cut down half a dozen xvarts at once. "My charge is in desperate peril!" Another wave of the creatures rushed towards him, only to be struck by another slash of his large sword. "Feel the wrath of Minsc and Boo, evil blue men!" he shouted.

It came as a relief to everyone when they finally arrived at the base of the fortress. The foundation and lower levels were severely weatherbeaten, but also appeared to be built with more forethought than the upper levels, which they had seen from afar the previous evening. The structure appeared to be the ruin of an older fortress which the gnolls had rebuilt after their own design.

"I have heard of such things happening," Ajantis said, "but not with a building of this size."

"We should move with caution," Kivan said. "There may be hundreds of gnolls within."

Imoen nodded. "We'll sneak in, find Dynaheir, take her and sneak out."

"And try not to alert every gnoll that might be there in the process," Ember said.

"Minsc wants to kick every gnoll out of the fortress and into the river, but Dynaheir must be safe first."

"There will be patrols. We must deal with them swiftly and completely. None must escape to warn the others," Ajantis said.

They paused at the base of the fortress for a while, sharing a brief meal of bread, dried meat and water. The wind was picking up and whispered around them as they ate.

"There's something unnatural about this place," Imoen murmured to Ember as she chewed the last of her dried meat.

"I agree. I'll be glad to leave," Ember replied. The wind was humming mournfully as it caressed the sandstone cliffs and pillars, picking up wisps of dust here and there that drifted away like smoke. It was a bright, sunny day, but the light felt harsh and cold, and Ember searched in vain for a spot of green to rest her eyes upon. "It feels dead here," she said.

They moved slowly up the winding steps that led into the fortress, and before long they ran into the first group of gnolls, guarding a ramshackle gate made by lashing together logs. Some thin branches were still sticking out of the logs, and had been used to display the skins of dead animals and the skulls of dead people. The gnolls - almost a dozen of them - were lazing about behind the gate, but sprang to attention when the party approached. Kivan, Minsc and Imoen quietly drew their bows and showered the gnolls in arrows, while Ember and Ajantis charged the ones who tried to either get closer to the party or run away from the gate. They acted in silence; no battle cries passed their lips, no cheers for particularly good hits, and only muffled groans when they themselves were injured. The only sounds were those of metal on metal and the yapping snarls of the gnolls, and those were soon silenced. The victors sipped healing potions and waited, listening attentively for reinforcements.

"They must not have noticed yet," Kivan murmured after a couple minutes. "Let us continue."

The steps turned abruptly to the left and contiued up in a straight line, with a wall to the right and a sheer drop to the left. Gusts of wind rushed around them, channeled by the shapes of the walls, and all but blocked the distant murmur of doglike yaps and whines. The straight steps offered less cover than the winding steps had, and the party was spotted before they got within shooting distance of the log gate at the top of the steps. Three gnolls charged towards them, and by the time those three were dispatched, another score of them were gathered at the gate, snarling and hissing at the invaders. Minsc barreled his way into the throng, knocking gnolls out of his path with his bow, and shot down two gnolls that were running towards a narrow staircase to their right. The rest of the gnolls were fully focused on their attackers, something which turned out to be a blessing in disguise as the gnolls blocked each other from using their halberds efficiently. Everyone but Imoen engaged in melee combat; she shot down any gnolls who tried to escape the throng as Kivan used his hammer and the other three used their swords.

The gnolls were eventually all cut down, and Minsc led them to the large open space beyond the gate. To their left was a low wall and then a dizzying drop to the sandstone labyrinths, and to their right was the bulk of the fortress. It appeared to be built more recently and in a much more haphazard manner than the level they had already passed, and the single narrow staircase appeared to be the only access point. The open space in front of them held three large, circular pits of different sizes.

"This is the front courtyard, if I am not mistaken," Ajantis said quietly. "Their main force is more than likely up there."

"I agree," Kivan said. "This wind is fortunate indeed; it carries our sounds away from the fortress. There would surely have been reinforcements by now if it were otherwise, as I do not think these were the only gnolls here."

"What are those large holes?" Imoen asked, wandering towards one of the circular pits and looking down. She promptly retched and backed away from it.

Ember glanced quickly into the pit and turned away in disgust. A dead human man lay at the bottom of the pit, shackled to the floor and surrounded by the knuckles of previous captives. The body had been there long enough to no longer smell, and the flesh seemed desiccated. _What did they do, leave him here to starve to death?_

Mercifully, the other pits were empty aside from a bone or two. There was no trace of a female captive, nor of one having been in them recently. "They must be holding my Dynaheir up there," Minsc said, pointing towards the flight of steps that led to the upper level. "We must find her, quick!"

"We must not be overrun," Kivan said. "I will go first; follow when I beckon."

The elf moved quietly up the narrow steps, staying as close to the wall as possible. Once he got to the top, he crouched behind a low wall, glanced around it, then beckoned to the rest to follow. He held one finger over his lips as he beckoned; silence was crucial. The others moved as carefully up the stairs as they could and crouched behind the wall along with Kivan. Whem Ember leaned forward and glanced around the wall, she saw several more pits like the ones on the lower level. Behind the pits were several shoddily constructed huts and tents, set up around a large central campfire. A myriad of gnolls were there. Some were eating, others were working with weapons, but most of them appeared to be resting. All told there were probably a hundred of the creatures in a very small space; if Dynaheir was being held in one of these pits, it would be very difficult to get her out.

From the look of it, they were not far from the gnolls' midden; bones were strewn everywhere, and flies were buzzing energetically around a pile of matter that Ember did not care to try to identify. There were more skulls on display here, mounted on the top of poles in a manner that seemed to imply they had a decorative purpose. Most of the heads were merely white bone, but some of them still had varying amounts of flesh and hair on them.

Minsc screamed in anguish.

His friends turned to find him staring blindly at one of the displayed heads. It was the head of a dark skinned woman with a tangled mat of red and brown locks on top of it.

"Dynaheir!" Minsc shouted. "No!" He stood up from the cover of the wall and drew his sword. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and fire blazed in his eyes.

"You will be avenged!"

Minsc screamed at the top of his lungs as he charged the gnoll encampment.


	17. Chapter 16: Loss and Gain

**Chapter 16: Loss and Gain**

_So many dead gnolls._

Minsc had stormed into the gnoll camp, screaming, weeping, slashing violently at anyone within his reach, oblivious of the many cuts and gashes the gnolls were inflicting upon him. He had even blindly attacked his own friends as they had attempted to aid him, forcing them to draw back. All they could do was deal with the gnolls that attempted to flee the carnage, and wait.

It was over now. There was not a single living gnoll in sight, and the stone tiles under their feet were stained with blood. Minsc, who had been furiously hacking at the body of one of the gnolls long after the last one had fallen, finally stopped. His sword slipped out of his hand and landed with a muffled thud on a cluster of bodies. Minsc glanced around for a moment with a confused look, then fell unconscious to the ground.

Ember and Ajantis ran towards the fallen ranger. Ajantis bent down over Minsc and examined him briefly, then lay his hands over a gaping wound in Minsc's shoulder and muttered the words that released his healing powers. Boo skittered out of a pouch on Minsc's hip and chittered nervously; Ajantis picked the nervous hamster up and stroked its head in a soothing fashion with a fingertip.

"This is not enough," Ajantis told Ember. "Do you think you can use your gift again?"

"I'll try," Ember said. She placed her hands over the wound and paused uncertainly. She did not know how to trigger the healing; there were no words at her disposal. She closed her eyes and searched for the feeling of burning, but all she could discern was fear and uneasiness at what had just happened. _Damn it, he'll die at this rate!_ She focused on her hands, willing them to heal Minsc.

To Ember's astonishment, it worked. The fire rushed through her once again, and she gasped as the blue flames rushed into Minsc's body, closing the wound further.

"By Helm, that is astounding," Ajantis said. "Excellent work; we can take care of the rest with potions."

Minsc moaned and stirred. He opened his eyes, looked at Ember, and burst into tears.

-.-.-

While Ajantis and Ember did their best to console the brokenhearted Minsc, Imoen and Kivan searched the area. Minsc had been frighteningly thorough in his rage, Imoen thought as she gingerly stepped around a dead gnoll.

"Who is up there?" a weary sounding, heavily accented, yet unmistakably human voice asked from one of the pits. Imoen hurried to the edge of the pit and looked down upon a tall, scrawny man in a filthy robe of undeterminable colour. His hands were shackled together and attached to the floor of the pit by a rather short length of chain, and several old bones kept him company. A bushy beard obscured most of his face.

"Uh, heya," Imoen said.

"Yes. Greetings to you too," the stranger replied, muttering something inaudible to himself before continuing. "Are you going to release me, or are we going to exchange pleasantries all day?"

Imoen paused for a moment. "Sure! So, how about the weather?"

The man glared up at her even as she descended into the pit; a series of gradually shorter logs had been hammered into the ground around three quarters of the rim, providing a primitive flight of steps. The bottom of the pit was cool and somewhat damp.

"Give me your hands," Imoen said. The man sullenly held out his hands, and Imoen examined the lock on the shackles. It was a crude mechanism, and more force than finesse was required to unlock it, but she still had them off of him in a matter of minutes. The man grimaced painfully and rubbed his wrists.

"What's your name?" Imoen asked.

The man stood up and carefully straightened his dirty robes. "I am the wizard Edwin Odesseiron," he said in an extremely self-important tone of voice.

Imoen smiled. _I should have guessed; he's about as charming as that fellow in High Hedge._ "I'm Imoen," she said. "How long have you been here?"

"Four days."

"Have you eaten since then?" Imoen asked. The wizard shook his head in response. Imoen frowned. _Not good at all._ She removed her pack from her back, taking care not to let it touch the floor or the walls of the pit, and pulled out a small water flask and a wedge of flat travellers' bread. She offered them to Edwin, who attacked them ravenously.

"Drink slower," Kivan said, coming down the steps behind Imoen, "you'll only make yourself sick." Edwin glowered at Kivan but nonetheless slowed down, drinking in small sips and chewing the bread thoroughly.

"There are no survivors in the other pits," Kivan told Imoen, "and I suggest you do not look into them." Imoen nodded grimly. They had probably arrived just in time for this guy; she'd rather not even think about what might be at the bottom of the other pits.

Edwin had soon finished the morsel of food. Imoen debated giving him some more right away, but decided not to for fear that he'd just throw it all up if he overdid it. He seemed to have improved somewhat with what she'd given him already, at least. "Can you stand?" she asked him.

"Of course I can stand! (Foolish girl!)" he snapped. His efforts to get on his feet were in vain, though, as he was unable to get enough purchase on the slippery walls to pull himself up, and didn't appear to have enough strength to just plainly push against the floor. Kivan offered him a hand, which was grudgingly accepted, and pulled Edwin to his feet.

The wizard proved able to stand on his own and even walk slowly once he was upright, and insisted on climbing the steps unassisted. Before long, he was standing at the top of the pit, squinting against the bright light as he surveyed the heaps of dead gnolls around them. He halted when his gaze fell upon Minsc, weeping with his head in Ember's lap. "Ah," Edwin said, "I should have known he would be here. (The company comes as a surprise, though.)"

At the sound of Edwin's voice, Minsc looked up. "You!" he exclaimed. "Why are you here?!"

"You know perfectly well why!"

"You know Minsc?" Imoen asked.

Edwin regarded her with an impatient expression. "No, I do not know him. His witch and I have similar tasks (beyond your understanding, I am sure), and our paths crossed in the mountains. Or should I rather say that we **had** similar tasks?"

"Is that true, Minsc?" Ember asked softly.

The ranger nodded. "He was quarreling with my Dynaheir when the gnolls attacked us," he said, then started to cry again. Ember hugged him and gently stroked his back.

"You know she is dead, then. Do you know when it occured?" Ajantis asked.

"They ate her the night we were brought here. (And it is a wonder they did not choke on her.)"

"So, why didn't they eat you?" Imoen asked. "I'm sure they didn't keep you for your sunny disposition."

Edwin's face was the image of wounded pride. "As if any creature would **dare** eat Edwin Odesseiron, the greatest wizard of all time!"

Imoen suppressed a laugh. _He's actually worse than Thalantyr!_ "Well, I'd never heard of you before," she said with a slight shrug, "and I don't think the gnolls have either, so... why are you really still here?"

"I... I offered to show them my arts for my freedom."

"Seems to have worked out well for you."

"I live, which is more than others can say."

Ajantis interrupted them. "I have formed some thoughts about you, wizard, and I must know something. Are you from Thay?" he asked.

"(Questions, incessant questions...) Of course I am from Thay, you fool! Who else would have the patience to keep the Rashemaar in check?"

"I thought as much; I have heard of the enmity between your peoples. Do you mean our friend Minsc ill?"

The wizard snorted derisively. "A Rashemaar without a wychalarn? He is of no concern to me. (Unless he moves against me, of course.)"

"We will be leaving soon; I wish to be far from here by sunset," Kivan said. "Red Wizard or no, it would not do for us to abandon you here. You may accompany us to Nashkel if you desire, provided you do not cause any trouble."

"One such as myself does not need companions," Edwin replied. "Nonetheless, I shall come with you. You will need my abilities, I am certain."

-.-.-

Minsc walked solemnly towards the staked heads. Slowly and with trembling hands, he removed the head of his witch from the pole and placed it gently in a burlap sack. Boo was the only one to hear the sorrowful words Minsc whispered to his witch as he reverently placed her remains in his pack.

Aided by Kivan and Ajantis, Minsc continued with the other heads. They had smashed one of the gnoll huts and piled the resulting wood on top of the unrecognizable remains that lay nearby, and now each skull was gently removed from its stake and placed on top of the wood.

"Bring the oil," Ajantis said. A barrel of oil that they had found nearby was poured over the pile. Once the wood and the remains were drenched, Kivan started a fire. The kindling was dry and the oil was rich; the pyre was fully aflame in moments.

Ember shivered, remembering the pyre they had built their second day out from Candlekeep. _This is probably not the last time I'll see one._

"I wouldn't mind burning this whole place down," Imoen said.

"Yes. It would be a spectacular sight, I think. (If only I knew the appropriate spells...)" Edwin said.

The pyre was still burning lively when they headed down the stairs that led out of the castle, the wizard in the rear. Ember watched him as he unsteadily traversed the steps. "Here," she said, handing him her white staff. "You can borrow this till we get to Nashkel."

For a moment she thought he would refuse to take it, but then he took it without a word and held it like a weapon. She did not hear the characteristic thumps of a walking stick until she had turned away from him and continued onwards.


	18. Chapter 17: A Little More Conversation

**Chapter 17: A Little More Conversation**

No longer having a trail to follow, the party was able to take an easier route back to Nashkel. The following morning found them in a lightly forested area where most of the rocks were covered by bright green grasses, brambles, creepers and a variety of spring flowers.

Unfortunately, even though they had left the rocky wastes of the peaks behind, there were still wolves in the area they passed through. Four of the creatures were standing on top of a boulder, snarling at the group. Two were dire wolves - larger and more ferocious than normal wolves, but otherwise similar - and two of them were snowy white winter wolves.

"I suppose the greatest wizard ever can take them on singlehandedly?" Imoen muttered to Edwin as she notched an arrow.

"I... even you must understand that my potential is not realized yet!" the wizard hissed back. Imoen stifled a grin as Edwin mumbled something inaudible yet no doubt insulting, and aimed her arrow at the closest of the winter wolves.

Despite his lack of greatness, the wizard acquitted himself decently. While the others had fought the wolves with bow and sword, he'd used a spell to siphon some life force from one of the wolves and then shot three small volleys of magic missiles into another. He also proved to be familiar enough with staves to be able to put the white staff to good use, knocking a winter wolf off its feet as it was about to release a blast of frost. In the end, the four wolves lay dead on the ground, and the only serious injury in the group was Ember's severely frostbitten leg. Ajantis immediately produced a flask of healing potion and offered his own healing abilities, but Ember brushed him off.

"If you don't mind, I want to try something," she told him. "Just be ready in case it doesn't work." She hobbled towards a small boulder, sat down, put her hands on her leg and concentrated. Almost immediately, the fire rushed through her and out of her hands, only to transform into a soothing sensation as the damaged tissue of her leg was restored. Ember smiled happily.

"I was right! I think I understand how to trigger the healing now," she said.

"That is excellent news, miss Ember," Ajantis said. "How did it feel?"

"Well, it still feels like burning in my body and arms, but when my leg was healed, it felt just like any other healing spell."

Edwin looked from Ember to Ajantis and back to Ember again. "(How curious.) I was not aware that you are a cleric," he remarked.

"She is not," Kivan said.

"I seem to have picked up a healing gift since we left home," Ember said. "We don't know how or why, but it's been nothing but useful so far."

"Indeed. (How very interesting.)" Edwin stroked his beard thoughtfully. "You will look into the cause, I am sure."

"Of course, when we have time. I have other things to do first, such as finding out who wants me dead," she replied with a small chuckle.

"Miss Ember!" Ajantis said. "You should not disclose that so openly!"

"Is there a problem, squire?" Edwin asked.

Ajantis glowered. "I may yet still be a squire, but I possess more integrity than you could ever hope for, Thayvian."

"I see; you are afraid the Red Wizard may act against her. (How narrow-minded, but what else is to be expected?)" He straightened his grimy robes. "Go ahead, use your little paladin tricks. See what my intentions towards her are."

Ajantis stood up and gestured rapidly, casting a spell on Edwin. The spell settled around the wizard in a wavering glow.

"Well?" Edwin asked.

"The response is muddled, but I cannot see that you have any overtly hostile intentions towards us," Ajantis said in a terse voice. "Nevertheless, know that I do not trust you."

"And know that I do not like you," Edwin snapped at Ajantis before stalking off. "(Most interesting indeed,)" he murmured to himself. "(The implications... the unanswered questions...)"

Imoen sighed. "They're both buffleheaded."

-.-.-

A waterfall spilled over the shelflike cliff in front of them and ended in a deep pool, surrounded by bushes and tall, slender trees. The water was almost crystal clear, and they could barely make out an underwater tunnel that had to be where the water was led away from the pool. The body of a small cat lay in the water, tangled in some branches that dipped into the pool.

Minsc spoke for the first time since they had left the gnoll fortress. "Look, Boo. A little kitten, taken away too soon. Just like my witch," he said. A fresh tear trickled down his cheek.

"Poor little cat," Imoen said. "It must have fallen in the river further up."

"It has a collar, too. See?" Ember said. Imoen nodded.

Minsc clambered through the bushes. He wrapped one hand around a tree for support and reached out and picked up the limp body of the cat with the other. "We must take the kitty home," he stated.

Nobody argued with him; even Edwin settled for merely mumbling about futility and wasted time. They made their way westward from the waterfall to where they could see a winding path leading further up the cliff. The path was narrow enough that they had to walk in single file, and it even crossed under the waterfall at one point. Shortly after emerging from under the roaring curtain of water, they came upon a small girl. She ran down the path towards them with an anguished look on her face.

"Have you seen my cat?" she asked. "Pixie, my cat, she was playing close to the waterfall and slipped..." The girl sniffled. "I hope she's all right."

"Is this your cat, little one?" Minsc asked sadly, holding out the cat to her.

"Pixie!" the girl exclaimed happily. She retrieved the dead cat from the dumbfounded Minsc and cradled it in her arms. "It's all right, she's done this before. Daddy will just have to raise her again. Here, you can have this scroll Daddy gave me. I can't read the words yet, anyways."

"He can bring back the dead?" Minsc asked.

"Yes, sometimes. It's difficult, he says, but he's raised Pixie three times already."

"Could Minsc ask him to raise someone? Please?"

The girl nodded. "Of course! Follow me." The girl skipped up the path away from the waterfall.

Ember cursed silently as they followed the child. There was no chance of raising Dynaheir; it'd been too long and her body was far too damaged. _I knew even Gorion was too damaged for that, and we at least had his entire body._ She could hear Imoen trying to delicately reason with Minsc, but he refused all advice, insisting upon hearing what the priest had to say first.

The top of the cliff was a quiet, lush grove. A small lake was revealed to be the source of the waterfall, and it was surrounded by trees of all sizes. Largest of these was a large, gnarled oak that was easily twice as tall as any of the others. It stood somewhat apart from the other trees on the eastern shore of the lake, and they could see two people standing next to it.

"Drienne, who do you travel with?" a melodic voice asked from behind a tree.

The little girl immediately turned in the direction the voice had come from. "Oh, there you are! Is Daddy with you?" she said. "They helped me find Pixie and now the big man wants to talk with Daddy."

A slight woman with green-tinged skin and a mass of golden hair appeared so suddenly that Ember felt like she'd stepped out of the tree itself. Her feet were bare, and a simple garment the colour of young spring leaves flowed around her body like water. She was painfully beautiful, and as her gaze passsed over the party, it all but mesmerized each of them in turn.

"A wondrous oak is in peril," the woman said, looking at directly at Ember as she spoke. "It is about to be attacked by two who would defile the majesty of nature. They have avoided my charms, and must be stopped before irreparable harm is done. Would you heed my plea?"

Ember nodded. "I will come."

"What villain would do such a thing?" Ajantis proclaimed. "Lead on, and I will deal with them!"

"Aye," Kivan said. "We will all help."

"Drienne, fetch your father," the woman said. "I thank you, for although they seem dim of wit, they still could do much damage. This way." She walked towards the large oak tree in a purposeful, gliding gait.

"The dryad's always like that; she is very strange," Drienne explained. "I think she liked you, though. I'll go get Daddy now." The girl waved at them and ran up the path to the northernmost end of the lake.

Ember led the others towards the tree, which was even more impressive up close. Its leaves whispered in the wind like a chorus of voices, and its branches creaked softly as they moved in the breeze. _It's almost like a person, sitting there in the sunlight and watching the world and whispering to itself,_ Ember thought. The two men that were standing under the oak were utterly dwarfed by it.

"There, they are just ahead," the dryad said. "I implore you, do what you must to make them leave." With a soft rustling like the sound of dry leaves, she vanished from sight.

"Hey, look, Krumm! New folks!" one of the men cried out. His companion looked around confusedly, but the speaker sauntered towards them.

"Heyas, I'm Caldo," he said. "We think dis here's a magic tree, cuz it's all alone up here and so big. Probably got gnomes or pixies or sumthin' in it, so we're gonna bust it down and take any treasure! Ain't that right Krumm?" The last part was shouted over his shoulder to his friend, who merely grunted and picked his nose in response.

"You wanna help?" Caldo asked. "It's a big tree, probably got enough gold fer alluh us!"

Edwin burst out laughing. "Gnomes? In trees? Gnomes do not dwell in trees, you bumbling idiots! (Is there no end to the stupidity?)"

"Sure dey do!" Caldo protested.

"Have you ever even seen a gnome, you pathetic simian? Or a pixie?"

"I seen one," Krumm said.

"Oh, I'm sure you have. How drunk were you at the time?"

"Huh?"

"(Fools.) Go ahead. Cut the tree down. I'll watch you, and I'll laugh when you find nothing but more kindling than you could ever carry home."

"I'm not gonna stand for dat!" Caldo said angrily. "Yous were probably gonna rob us when we're done, wern't cha? Me an Krumm don't cotton to bandits one bit! Do we Krumm?"

Imoen stepped forward. "Rob you of what, firewood? Think about it; how long would it take you to cut a tree this big? Just look at it. Like you said, it's a big tree."

Krumm stared dazedly at the tree. "Uh...Yeah!" he said.

"It'd take you at least a week, I reckon," Imoen said. "Don't you agree, Caldo?"

"Mebbe," Caldo muttered. "But it's still our tree an our treasure!"

"How would they get the treasure in the tree?" Imoen asked.

"Magic, of course!"

"So, if someone used magic to put treasure in the tree, wouldn't they use magic to protect it the tree was cut down?"

Caldo frowned. "You mean... poison or sumthin'?"

"It'd be a pretty stupid place to hide a treasure, anyway," Ember added. "Out in the open like this? Too obvious. I'd put it in a cave instead."

Caldo's face lit up. "We knows a cave! But... it probably got wolves in it."

"Probably," Kivan said. "I would not expect a treasure cave to not be protected."

"Lemme think," Caldo said. He looked up and down the tree, seeming to gauge its size, then he looked southwards. After a few more minutes of looking between the tree and the lands to the south, he nodded as if he had reached an important decision. "Krumm!" he shouted. "We're gonna go to the cave!" Krumm muttered something unintelligible, stuck a finger in his ear, and followed his friend south.

"I don't know whether or not to hope there will be wolves in the cave," Ember said as they watched the men leave the area.

"We should have just killed them. It would have been much simpler," Edwin said. "(And the world would not miss them, I am sure.)"

"Perhaps, but I am most pleased that you did not," a voice said. A man in blue and green robes was walking towards them, closely followed by Drienne. She was cradling a slightly damp cat in her arms; it was purring loudly and most decidedly alive.

"I am Peaceman Derrin," the man said in a calm, gentle tone, "and I am grateful for your assistance with this problem. Now, my daughter tells me that one of your party wishes to speak with me. How may I help?"


	19. Chapter 18: A Little Less Action

**Chapter 18: A Little Less Action**

Minsc was sitting on a log, flanked by Ember and Imoen. Derrin the priest sat on another log across from them with a burlap sack in his lap. Minsc kept his eyes riveted on the small hamster that was nibbling grain in the palm of his hand; he did not want to look at what was left of his witch.

Derrin opened the sack and looked inside it. He frowned and closed the sack with gentle movements. "I am sorry, my friend," he said, "but she has moved on. She has reached her eternal home, and will not return."

Minsc choked down a sob as little Imoen hugged him. It wasn't really a surprise. He had known, deep down, that she would be gone. _How could she not be, after what the filthy gnolls did to her?_ But when they met little Drienne, he knew he **had** to ask. Dynaheir was still his witch, still his charge, and he had to do all that he could for her.

"If you would like, I might be able to tell you a little about where she is now. Do you know which deity she claimed as patron?" the priest asked.

"The Hidden One," Minsc whispered.

"Ah! Then she is in the mountains of Elysium, in Dweomerheart. I have heard that it is a most beautiful realm, with jagged peaks, rolling hills and deep valleys."

_Like Rashemen?_ "Dynaheir liked the mountains. There are many mountains at home."

Derrin smiled. "If that is the case, she should enjoy her Lady's realm. Just imagine! She will live in a city of magic, a place of marvel where the most wondrous arts are performed every day, but the peaks will be within the reach of her hand. She will see the mightiest thunderstorms play in the mountains on hot summer days, and in winter, her world will be covered with sparkling frost."

"Will there be flower meadows?"

"Of course. When summer reaches the hills, they will come alive with the brightest of flowers."

Minsc could vividly remember one of their last days in Rashemen. They had walked and walked and walked till long past sundown, and camped in deep twilight. The next morning they had found themselves surrounded by a sea of light blue flowers. Dynaheir had looked around with such a blissful look on her face, and when Minsc had made her a wreath of the blue flowers while she made breakfast, she had not admonished him. Instead, she had smiled and thanked him, and even worn the wreath for a few hours. "Dynaheir liked flowers," he said. "She would never say so, but she liked them very much. "

"I think she must be happy where she is now," Imoen said.

"Little Imoen is probably right," Minsc conceded, "but she should have been here still. I was not strong enough to keep her safe."

"You did your very best. You could have died too, you know," Imoen said. "Dynaheir knows you did all that you could."

"But she was my responsibility! Oh Boo," he said mournfully, "we failed our witch! I am no man and you are no hamster!" Minsc raised his head and looked at Imoen. "For what purpose am I now? I cannot return home in disgrace. "

"You could come with us," Ember suggested.

How could they possibly want him to stay, shamed as he was? Minsc glanced warily at Ember; she looked like she meant it.

Did they not mind his failure?

Could he... could he still fight with them? _Yes... no... yes... yes... YES!_

Evil was after Ember and Imoen, and a large boot was needed to kick evil where it'd hurt. He would help the girls. He would fight evil for them and protect them as best he could. Maybe, in their company, he could lessen his shame.

Minsc stood up and bowed deeply in front of Ember and Imoen. "My honor is yours, will you accept it?" he asked, using the formal phrase from long ago when he had found his wychalarn. He had never expected he'd use it twice.

"Of course we do!" Imoen exclaimed. The girls leapt to their feet and hugged him.

-.-.-

They buried Dynaheir in a grassy meadow beside some fir trees. Derrin had offered to bury her near the great oak, but Minsc had refused, wanting a spot that would draw less attention. The spot he picked had a view of the lake and the distant mountains, and Drienne assured them there would be plenty of flowers there in summer.

"You are welcome to stay another night," Derrin told Kivan as they left the burial site. "Although he seems to be coming to terms with her death, I feel it is too soon for Minsc to leave this place."

Kivan nodded. "There is peace here. It will do him good."

"We thank you for your kindness and generosity, and for what you have done for Minsc," Ajantis said. "We are in your debt."

"Not at all," Derrin said, "I am happy to serve all who are in need. Now, it is growing late. Come with me to the house, and we shall have supper."

The house stood on the northern shore of the lake, close to the spring that supplied water to the lake and waterfall. It was not much larger than a hut, and could barely accomodate all six visitors. A small garden of herbs and vegetables which had been planted between the house and a boulder was the only other sign of human activity. There was another structure in the area, but it was not made by man; a series of natural pools below the mouth of the spring served as a shrine to the goddess Eldath.

As they drew closer to the house, the tranquility of the day was interrupted by a repetitive smacking sound.

"Ah, your friend the wizard is still working, I hear," Derrin said. The greatest wizard ever had refused to go to the funeral, insisting that his time would be better spent trying to wash his robe. Derrin had provided him with a brown robe and some soap, and they had left him to his cleaning. They found him on the shore of the lake, dressed in an oversized robe that made him look like a malnourished hermit monk and vigorously bashing a sopping wet bundle of fabric with a rock.

"Looks like his robe might turn out to be red after all," Imoen remarked, peering at the work in progress.

"Indeed, it does," Derrin said. "If you would be so kind, would you let him know there will be supper shortly?" Imoen grinned and ran down to the shore.

_I wonder what she's going to say to him this time,_ Ember mused. "Would you like some help with the food?" she asked Derrin.

Derrin smiled. "That would be most kind of you."

It was a fair evening, and they decided to eat supper outdoors. Soon, Ajantis and Minsc were carrying log tables and benches out to the open space in front of the house while Kivan lit a fire. Ember followed the priest inside and helped cut up tubers and vegetables for a spicy stew. They talked while they cooked; Ember told him about Candlekeep and the things that had happened since she and Imoen left, and he told her how he'd moved to the lake six years earlier after his wife had died of a fever, leaving him alone with a small child.

"The Quiet One teaches us that we must each find our own peace within," Derrin told her as he stirred the bubbling stew, "and her teachings helped me find my way in my darkest hour. I was lost, lost and angry, but I learned to live again and found it to be precious. I pledged myself to her, and she guided me to this place. Now I tend the lake in her name."

"I can see why you're so happy here," Ember said, cutting thick slices from a loaf of bread. "I've never been anywhere more beautiful, or more tranquil."

"Eldath is also known as the Mother of the Waters. Her blessing is on this place, and we see it in every tree and each drop of rain. Strife finds no home here."

Ember looked out the doorway. Her companions were all seated on the log benches. Minsc was holding Boo with outstretched hands so that Drienne could pet the hamster. Pixie the cat was curled up in Ajantis's lap, and the paladin was absentmindedly stroking her fur as he talked with Kivan. Imoen was sitting beside the wizard, showing him her collection of spell scrolls; both of them were talking excitedly.

"I see what you mean," she said.

-.-.-

The following morning was cool and misty, but the sky was blue above the mist and promised warmth for later. Ember left Derrin's house while the others were still eating and walked to the great oak; she wanted to see it one more time before they left. The grass was twinkling with minute dewdrops, and her boots were soon shining with moisture. She looked over her shoulder and smiled to see a clearly visible trail of footprints behind her. _No problem tracking anyone on a morning like this._

The tree looked very different this time. There was no breeze to move its leaves and branches, and the mist partially obscured it. The tree seemed to be sleeping, or maybe just dozing in the morning chill. Its presence was decidedly still there, though; majestic and comforting at the same time. Ember closed her eyes and breathed deeply, and when she opened her eyes again, the dryad stood in front of her.

Ember gasped and took a step backwards; she hadn't heard the dryad at all.

The dryad merely smiled at her surprise and stepped closer to Ember, peering at Ember's face like it was some mysterious new object to examine. Ember found her gaze held by a pair of deep brown eyes, and time seemed to freeze for a moment. Then the dryad stepped away and broke the spell, evidently having seen what she was looking for.

"You have not found it yet," the dryad said.

"Found... found what?"

The dryad smiled again and shook her head slightly. "It matters not. You will find it one day; of this, I am certain. And all will change when you do." She walked slowly towards the oak and vanished in the strands of mist.

It was only then that Ember noticed there were no footprints on the grass but her own.


	20. Chapter 19: New Acquisitions

**Chapter 19: New Acquisitions**

An oddly coloured green stone stuck out of the ground under a small pine tree. It was all but covered in moss; Kivan would probably not even have noticed it if not for their unexpected delay. As it was, he found himself scrutinizing the surrounding area in an attempt to ignore the very annoying voice of the man that had accosted them. _How can humans ramble on in this fashion? He is not even listening to Ember and Imoen; it is just mindless speech._ The girls had given up and were meeting the man's incessant nagging with silence, but to no avail. Behind Kivan, Ajantis was murmuring quiet prayers to Helm. Minsc was trying to console Boo; evidently, the hamster was getting a headache.

"Enough!" Edwin shouted, stomping towards the man and glaring at him. "Shut your mouth and get out of my sight, or there'll be worse than rocks thrown at you! (I'll make this worthless excuse for a man regret he ever saw us if he doesn't leave.)"

The man stared at Edwin in disbelief. "I thought you were my friends, but you're boring just like the others! I don't like you anymore!" the man yelled. He picked up a handful of dirt, threw it at Edwin, and ran away.

Imoen sighed with relief. "I thought he'd never leave."

"Thanks, Edwin," Ember said. "The rock throwing was starting to get a bit too tempting."

Kivan ignored the wizard's grumbling about the dirt, and bent down to examine the odd green stone. A touch and a few gentle taps revealed it to not be stone at all. "Minsc, help me dig around this," Kivan called out.

The large man obeyed immediately, securing his hamster in one of the many pouches he carried before shoveling away the soil around the object with his large hands. "Have you found a treasure?" Minsc asked.

"Perhaps," Kivan said, digging and brushing dirt and moss off the object. "This appears to be cured ankheg shell. With any luck... ah." He tugged at the green object they had partially unearthed. The remaining soil offered little resistance; in no time, Kivan was holding a stained green cuirass that had the look of plate armour, but none of the weight. _A treasure, indeed._ "It is ankheg plate armour, Minsc," he said. "Lighter than most chainmail, yet stronger than plate."

"You found ankheg armour, here?" Ajantis asked. "That is truly a stroke of luck. May I examine it?"

Kivan handed the cuirass to the paladin and dug a little further in the spot where it had lain. Unfortunately, there did not appear to be any other pieces of the armour.

"Astonishing. It needs a thorough cleaning, of course, and these straps should be replaced, but it is otherwise in near perfect condition," Ajantis said. "Judging by its size and make, I think it will fit either you or Ember very well once I am done cleaning and repairing it."

"Kivan found it," Ember said. "Make it fit him."

Kivan smiled briefly. He had had a full suit of ankheg plate once, a long time ago. It was excellent armour, strong yet flexible, and he found he was already looking forward to wearing the cuirass. "If you say so," he said.

-.-.-

An hour or so later they arrived in Nashkel. "Welcome to Nashkel," Imoen said, gesturing towards the town's main street with a dramatic hand flourish.

Edwin looked around with disdain. "They call this a town? (I swear, there are palaces at home that are larger than this.)"

"It is small, but it has all necessities. You should be able to find anything you need for your journey onward from here," Ajantis said.

"Ah, yes. I have thought about that matter. (Extensively, I might add.) You saved my life, and I am thus in your debt. How better to repay you than to offer you my services? I am sure you agree that my guidance and talent will be far more valuable than any monetary sum."

Ajantis stared speechlessly at the wizard. Before the paladin could recover, Kivan spoke up. "We do not need payment, but we will discuss this suggestion. Go to the store and wait; it is that white building over there."

"If I must," Edwin said. He gathered his stained robes around him and marched into the store.

As soon as the wizard was safely out of earshot, the others huddled. "He is a Red Wizard; I do not trust him," Ajantis said.

"Boo thinks the evil wizard is noisy and angry, but Boo is not afraid of him." Minsc said. "If the wizard stays with us, Minsc will keep him from getting into mischief, with boot and blade if need be!"

"His arrogance is a bit annoying, but I guess all wizards are like that," Ember said. "And Ajantis, you said you saw no hostile intent in him when you tested him."

"At that moment, there was none. How do we know that will not change?"

"If Minsc does not object to him, neither do I," Kivan said. "I have not seen outright malice in him, and with all the spells we have collected, it would be useful to have someone with us who could use them."

"And what if he is only offering his service for the sake of obtaining those spells?" Ajantis asked.

"I have a suggestion," Imoen said.

Imoen quickly presented her idea, and a brief yet heated discussion followed. Ajantis remained skeptical, but in the end even he conceded that the plan had merit. Ember, on the other hand, thought Imoen's idea was excellent, and she and Imoen chatted excitedly about it as they walked towards the store.

The main room of the store was just as Ember remembered it. Crockery, foodsupplies, armour, blankets, clothing and a vast array of other supplies were piled on shelves that reached to the ceiling. Daylight filtered in through two small windows, and the air tasted faintly of dust. Just like last time, there were no swords or bladed weapons on the weapons rack that figured prominently in the middle of the room, and Ember noticed a lack of other things made of iron, such as pots and farming tools. The wizard was standing under one of the windows, burrowing through a pile of robes; a slightly threadbare red robe lay draped over a pile of plain wooden staves beside him.

Ajantis excused himself and headed for the shopkeeper, his arms laden with winter wolf pelts and other items they hoped to sell. Ember walked up to Edwin and tapped his shoulder with a finger.

"Yes?" the wizard said distractedly, still pawing through the robes.

"Well, if you're too busy to hear our decision, we can always come back later..." Ember said.

The wizard let go of the robes. "I hope for your sakes you made the correct decision," he told Ember.

Ember grinned. "We decided to accept your offer, on one condition."

"And what condition is that? (The paladin's idea, doubtless.)"

"Remember all those spell scrolls I have?" Imoen asked. "I want you to teach me how to use them."

Edwin raised an eyebrow as the implication sank in. "You, a wizard? (Of all the foolish notions...)"

"Yes, me. Are you worried I won't be arrogant enough for a wizard?" Imoen asked, grinning wickedly.

"That is the condition; take it or leave it," Ember said.

"(Preposterous!) What if she has no affinity for magic?"

"What if she does?" Imoen asked.

Edwin turned towards Imoen. "Are you even aware of how much you must learn before you can even **attempt** to use a spell?"

"Nope! That's what you're needed for."

Edwin threw up his hands. "Oh very well, I will teach you. (At least she has an excellent taste in tutelage.) Now, will you let me search for a robe in peace?"

Imoen smiled. "I'll even help you!"

The group left the store together some time later. The storekeeper had proven true to his word, and had paid a total of two thousand gold for the winter wolf pelts they had gathered. Their other wares had also brought a fair bit of coin, and they left with heavier purses, fresh arrows, replenished foodsupplies, new blankets and a plain red robe for Edwin. The wizard had also bought a bone needle, some thread, and a length of ribbon made of a deep golden satin.

"Where to next?" Ajantis asked.

"We should seek out Bardolan," Kivan said. "If I am not mistaken, we..."

A fat man wearing a faded yellow tunic ran towards them, eyes fixed upon Kivan. "No, say not another word!" he cried. "I would not think of making you wait but a moment for your just reward! Why, when the council told me that they had procured **Greywolf** to rid the woods of the bandit Tonquin, I knew we could expect swift justice. I admit, I would not have predicted success this quickly, but who else could it be striding into town looking... ah... looking as you do! Please accept this meager sum of two hundred gold pieces, as well as the heartfelt thanks of all of Nashkel!" He smiled broadly and held out a coin purse to Kivan.

Kivan stepped backwards to avoid the fat man's onslaught. "You must have made some mistake. I am not this man called Greywolf," he said, eyeing the fat man warily.

"You are not Greywolf the bounty hunter?" The fat man peered at Kivan's face. "Oh sweet Helm, I almost gave two hundred gold pieces to a complete stranger!? The Captain best not hear of this; he'd have my hide, he would! Thanks be for your honesty, stranger, there are those who would not have done as such."

"Perhaps you will be more careful next time, Oublek," Bardolan's voice said from behind the fat man.

"Y...yes sir," Oublek said. The fat man bowed to the soldier and scurried off.

"Bardolan!" Imoen exclaimed happily. "We were just looking for you." Bardolan smiled and bowed in greeting.

"How does your commander fare?" Ajantis asked.

"He dwells at the Temple yet, but matters are improving for him, albeit slowly. We do not know if he will ever return to the Guard, but his second-in-command is a capable man, and everyone's spirits are lifted just knowing that our commander is no longer lost." Bardolan turned towards Ember. "Good lady, I am sorry to report that Tranzig was long gone from the carnival, and left no clues as to where he was headed. All we found was another victim of his; a cleric of Tempus who had been tracking Tranzig for her own reasons. He had turned her to stone, but thankfully, we were able to restore her. The villain's name and face has been posted all over town; he will not enter so easily again."

Ember nodded. She had hoped the carnival would supply a lead, but hadn't really expected anything.

"Does the woman remember how she was petrified?" Edwin asked.

"Ah, yes, I believe she said he read something from a parchment."

"Excellent."

"Explain," Kivan said.

Edwin sighed. "It means he does not employ a pet basilisk, and it suggests that he is not powerful enough to be able to cast the spell from memory. (Obvious, one would think, but clearly it is not to these simians.)"

"There is another matter I wish to speak with you about," Bardolan said. "In fact, I was looking for you, much as you were looking for me."

"What is this other matter?" Ajantis asked.

"Our mines no longer merely produce poor iron. There have been deaths and reports of devils in the mines. Most of the casualties have been miners, but the alchemist that we had hired to examine the ore has also been killed. Thus, our mayor has decided to send out a call for adventurers to investigate the mines. When I heard you had returned, I immediately set out to find you and ask if you were interested."

"Devils in the mines? Sounds fishy to me," Imoen said. "Especially with the alchemist being killed - unless he went somewhere he wasn't supposed to, that is."

"No, the alchemist stayed in the upper level of the mine. Said he'd ruin his robes if he went deeper, so he had the miners bring him ore samples," Bardolan said.

"We will speak with your mayor," Kivan said. "Bring us to him."

Bardolan bowed. "I am happy to hear that," he said. "Follow me."


	21. Chapter 20: The Masterpiece

**Chapter 20: The Masterpiece**

"That must be the mine," Ajantis said.

From their vantage point on the top of a hill, they had a clear view of a large, circular pit in the distance, surrounded by small wooden buildings. It was hard to imagine the place as anything but a mine, Ember thought as she regarded the piles of lumber and rubble. A large area of forestland around the mine had been clear cut, and the muddy ground was crisscrossed by cartwheel tracks.

Looking at the pit, Ember was surprised to find she felt more excitement than fear. They were all aware that a problem of this magnitude would be dangerous - Edwin had argued strongly against accepting until the reward was mentioned - and they had prepared carefully. Their magical items had been identified at the Temple of Helm, and been distributed between them. Imoen's studded leathers had turned out to be a suit of doubly enchanted armour that had once belonged to a great thief. The bracers they had taken from the half-ogre near the gnoll fortress would bolster the wearer's dexterity; these were given to Edwin, who could wear no armour and, as Imoen put it, was as graceful as a duck. The bracers of the greatest dart-thrower in the west were revealed to be Bracers of Archery, and were given to Kivan. High Watcher Nalin had further boosted their chances by loading them with potions and protection scrolls. Ember had looked into the High Watcher's eyes as he'd handed them some stone to flesh scrolls, and had realized that she was not the only one that suspected they might find Tranzig involved with the mines.

"What's making that sound?" Imoen asked, startling Ember out of her reverie. A faint, erratic tapping came from somewhere ahead of them. The sound had a bright, brittle quality, like someone was tapping a large glass jug with a metal rod.

"I think its source is near that outcropping," Ajantis said, pointing towards a jumble of tall rocks halfway between them and the mining pit.

"You are correct," Kivan said.

"Boo thinks it is rocks, singing to each other!" Minsc said as they walked towards the outcropping.

Ember smiled. "What are they singing?"

"About heroes and hamsters and rangers and the swords that stomp evil like the evil it is, of course!"

"That... is ridiculous. (Stomping swords indeed.)" Edwin said.

"What's wrong with a stomping sword?" Imoen asked. "Why, I'm sure that if you could Identify Minsc's sword, you'd know it's a sword of stomping."

"Of course you cannot be expected to understand, but a wizard as great as myself would never dream of wasting a spell on such an obviously simple sword. (Not even if I could cast it.)" Edwin said in a huffy tone.

"Oh, but the evil wizard is wrong, for Minsc's sword is far from ordinary! It is a sword of justice, and bards will sing about it!"

Imoen laughed. "I'll sing about your sword if you like, Minsc," she said, and began dancing around and singing the words 'stomping sword of justice' to the beaming giant. Edwin grumbled and muttered something about simians, and Ajantis soon asked Imoen to quiet down lest they disturb the source of the noise, but Ember couldn't help noticing there was a distinct smile on the paladin's face as he did so.

A simple scaffolding had been erected beneath the outcropping for no apparent reason. Beyond it, a pale man in blue clothes that must have once been very elegant was working on a block of the whitest marble, chipping away a sliver here, carving a slight groove there. The shape of a woman, pale and perfect, was taking form out of the block. As they approached the man, he gently positioned his chisel in the flowing locks of marble hair and tapped it with exquisite gentleness.

"Ahh, beauteous creature! You are my masterpiece!" they heard him exclaim between taps. He moved to the woman's eyes next; pulling a small pouch from his pocket, he selected two piercingly bright emeralds and placed one in one of the statue's eyesockets with a sigh. "Never should I have stolen these emeralds," he said in a wistful voice, "but there was nothing else that would capture the majesty of thine eyes!"

The man placed the second emerald, nodding to himself. "I did what must be done, for I have left my shop, forgotten all my commissions, and spent all that I had. I must complete thee!" He took a step back, one hand resting on his chin as he contemplated his work, and flinched with surprise at the sound of a twig snapping under Ajantis's plate boot.

"Wait, there is someone here! Who are you?" the man cried nervously, turning to face the party. "'Twas that relentless Greywolf who sent you, wasn't it?"

"Minsc does not know any grey wolves, and neither does Boo," Minsc said.

The man sighed with relief. "Thank Deneir, I thought I was done in. I am not cut out for a life on the run." He looked at Minsc with red-rimmed eyes. "Mayhaps you could help a foolish sculptor finish this epiphany? Please, guard this place, for surely Greywolf will come seeking the bounty on the gems."

"Might you be Prism? (How fortunate that I spoke with Oublek!)" Edwin asked, then yelped with pain as Imoen stepped heavily on his foot.

"Prism I am," the man said, "and I admit I stole the gems, but better they are the eyes of a work of love than a fat woman's tawdry trinket! Please, I will pay with my last possessions if you would do this one service for me."

"Minsc and Boo will protect you from all wolves, be they grey or brown or white!" Minsc exclaimed.

"If it is so important, then I shall guard you as best I can. Yes. (That pouch had better hold what I think it does.)" Edwin said.

"I thank you, for I cannot run from this place until my task is done. I have been using potions of speed to aid my work, and have not slept for days. She is beautiful, is she not?" Prism said, gesturing towards the statue. "'Tis a monument to my foolishness. I saw her but once, on the outskirts of Evereska, and said nothing. I let thee pass from mine eyes, and mine heart hath cursed me for it!" He thrust the bag into Minsc's hands and darted to the scaffolding, climbing to the top of it and peering intently at the statue. _So that's what it's for_, Ember thought.

"I do not like this," Ajantis said. "This man appears possessed."

"He has seen an elf maiden," Kivan said, looking away towards the mountains to the south.

"It's so sad," Imoen said. "She must be really special."

"Minsc, can I have the pouch?" Ember asked. Minsc, whom Edwin was trying to alternatively threaten, insult, and flatter for possession of the pouch, was only too happy to give it to her. Ember opened it and poured the contents into her hand.

"I knew it!" Edwin exclaimed as several emeralds, each as bright as the statue's eyes, spilled out of the pouch.

"What did you know?" Ember asked.

"I knew that your moonstruck friend here stole emeralds from the wife of the tavern owner in Nashkel. There is a bounty for the return of the gems. (I am certain the bounty will not be worth as much as the stones, though.)"

"And what about Prism himself?" Ember asked.

"Who cares? (I do not.)"

"Someone is coming," Kivan said.

A man with a deeply tanned face and grey hair that perfectly matched his grey wolfskin cloak strode towards them. Prism yelped and crouched on the upper part of the scaffolding, seemingly trying to hide.

"I have come for you, Prism," the man said in a deep voice.

"No! Not yet!" Prism whimpered. "My work is nearly done! Please, I implore you!"

"Your sentiment is wasted on me, fool. You are but gold in my purse. Do you make your situation worse by hiring help to protect you?" The man laughed and turned towards Ember and her friends. "Who are you fools?"

"He only wants to finish his masterpiece," Imoen said. "Why not let him? What harm can it do?"

"Hah! You should be more worried 'bout the harm I can do! Never have I taken a bounty and not delivered! Now stand aside, that I might dispense with this fool and claim my prize. Or would you rather I go through you to get him? Consider well if he be worth your lives!"

Ember drew her sword. "Do you talk like that to everyone?" she asked. "Insult them, brag about your prowess, and threaten to kill them if they disagree with you? You do not frighten me, Greywolf. I suggest you leave."

Greywolf looked puzzled for a moment, then grinned ferally. "So you know my name. do you? Tell it to Kelemvor, for it is the name of he who will send you there!" The grin turned into a snarl as the bounty hunter drew his sword and lunged. Ember blocked him once, twice; her sword snapped the third time she blocked him. His sword grazed her leg, cutting through her armour and drawing a line of icy pain across her flesh. Ember stumbled. The next blow would come any moment; she let herself fall to the ground and roll out of his immediate reach. A blast of magic missiles struck Greywolf's face, closely followed by three arrows. Greywolf screamed and flailed wildly, allowing Ajantis time to charge him.

Ember got to her feet. Greywolf lay face down in the mud, which was turning darker and redder around his body.

"Why did you provoke him like that, Em?" Imoen asked. "He could have killed you!"

Ember shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time?" she suggested. _It did, though; it really did._ Imoen sighed and handed Ember a healing potion. Ember sipped it and smiled as a soothing warmth spread through her injured leg. A glance towards the scaffolding told her that Prism had already returned to his work, chipping the marble at the statue's hips with an impossible speed; flakes of stone fell around him like snow.

"Ajantis, what do you make of this sword?" Kivan asked.

"It is most definitely enchanted," Ajantis replied. "Unfortunately, I cannot guess how."

"It felt icy when it cut me," Ember said, walking towards the sword. Its blade was almost black, she noticed, with a pale edge to it. The hilt was richly decorated in red and gold. It was the most beautiful sword she had ever seen; truly a masterpiece. _Provided it is not cursed, of course._

Minsc walked past her and picked up the sword. "Boo says this little sword is very sharp," he said, examining the blade and slicing experimentally through air, "and that the angry wolf man must have poked many backsides with it. Does little Ember want it?"

"It did not harm him, so why not? (Then again, it may leave her feebleminded; none can tell the difference with him.)" Edwin said.

Ember nodded. "You'll take me to the town if something should happen, right?" she asked.

"Of course!" Imoen said.

"In the hands of little Ember it will truly be a sword of justice!" Minsc exclaimed. The large ranger handed the sword to Ember with a slight bow.

Ember took the weapon by the hilt and was immediately surprised by how **right** it felt in her hand. She went through some practice movements with it; if the balance was not perfect for her, it was not far off. "A sword of justice it shall be!" she told Minsc with a delighted smile.

"At last! My work is complete!" Prism cried. The artist backed away from his work and gazed at it in wonderment. His hands trembled, and he dropped his hammer and chisel moments before his knees buckled under him.

"Prism! What's wrong?" Imoen asked, running to his side. His face was grey, and his sunken eyes fixed upon the statue.

"He is exhausted," Ajantis said. The paladin placed his hands on Prism's chest and whispered the words that released his healing powers, but the spell appeared to have little effect on the worn out sculptor.

"It is done," Prism whispered. "Take what you will from my possessions, but leave the sparkle in her eyes. O sweet creature, my effigy to thee is done. Perhaps our paths shall cross in distant Realms, and I shall find the courage to call thy name." A single tear trickled down his cheek. "Ellesime!" he shouted, and died.

"Prism? Prism!" Imoen called, shaking him by the shoulder.

"Leave him be, child," Kivan said. "He is gone."

"Why did he do that? He could have worked slower, he didn't have to work himself to death!" Imoen said. Tears ran down her face as she closed Prism's eyes.

Ember looked at the statue. It was clearly not true to life, yet it perfectly conveyed the idea that Prism's Ellesime was an exquisitely beautiful woman with a proud stance and a coldness about her eyes. _It might just be the emeralds, but..._ Ember shuddered. "I don't think I like her," she said out loud.

Ajantis put an arm around Ember's shoulder. "Come, miss. The mine is not far off; we shall inform the guards there of what has occured."

"Boo is wondering; could we not carry Prism there?" Minsc asked.

Imoen shook her head. "Let's just let him stay here with her till they come. I think he's earned that."

Sunlight glinted off the statue's emerald eyes, creating the illusion that it was watching them, as they left Prism's camp.


	22. Chapter 21: The Nashkel Mines

**Chapter 21: The Nashkel Mines**

Careful not to spill any of the contents, Ajantis picked up the flask. _Devils, indeed._ They had come across numerous kobolds since they set foot in the mine, and this one had been pouring a sickly green substance on the ore veins when they found it. The kobold was now dead at their feet, and an acrid, unpleasant smell rose from the flask, which was still half full of the foul substance.

"Here is the stopper," Kivan said, holding a small object out to Ajantis. Ajantis thanked the elf and put the stopper in the flask. The range of their torches' light was limited, and only Kivan was still in full possesion of his visual faculties.

"Look at this," Ember said, prodding the ore vein with the kobold's short bow. A section high up on the wall was sturdy, but as soon as she tapped the area where the kobold had spilled the green liquid, the ore crumbled to dust.

Ajantis nodded grimly. "Mayor Ghastkill will be most interested in the contents of this flask."

"Evil 'round every corner," Minsc said in a low voice. "Careful not to step in any."

The giggles of even more kobolds could be heard from the tunnel that led to the lower level.

-.-.-

"How far do you think we have walked?" Imoen asked. "It feels like we've been here forever."

"We're probably only a few miles from Nashkel," Ember said. With a slight shudder, she noticed the body of a miner laying in a tunnel fork nearby; the dampness of the mine had not been kind to the body.

"Our progress would undoubtedly be much smoother if I were to wield one of the wands. (The wand of fire, preferably, but the wand of frost would be an improvement also.)" Edwin said. Ember rolled her eyes. Ever since the wizard had found out about the wand of fire they had found while hunting bandits in the coastal hills, he had not stopped asking for it. However, Ajantis did not trust him with it, and Kivan felt it was too soon to leave such an artifact in his hands, so all he had been granted was a flask of oil of fiery burning. Matters had not improved when Emerson, the mine's manager, had given them a wand of frost that had belonged to the now dead alchemist.

"Stop complaining, Eddie. You'd just use up the wand, clearing our way like that, and then what would you do when you **really** needed the wand?" Imoen said.

"There would be no such problem! **You** might perhaps commit such a foolish mistake, but I, the great Edwin Odesseiron, have superior knowledge of how, when, and where fire is best utilized!"

"Boo does not like kobolds. They look at him funny," Minsc said.

"So they do," Ember said.

"It is of little wonder; there is a sense of evil about them," Ajantis added.

"And there they are," Kivan said, pointing down a tunnel. Half a dozen of the creatures appeared to be guarding a small room. Edwin obliterated one of them with a magic missile, and Kivan had taken down another with a wellplaced arrow by the time Ember, Ajantis and Minsc fell upon the kobolds.

The small room was empty but for a few crates which held a healing potion, a gemstone and some coin. The tunnel to their right was more intriguing; a reddish glow emanated from it. Her sword drawn, Ember walked slowly down the glowing tunnel, being careful not to get out of sight of the others.

"Wow," Ember whispered. The tunnel ended abruptly, cut off by a slowly churning river of fire. Immense heat radiated from the river, and she could see flakes of black ash floating on the surface. There was no corresponding tunnel on the other side. _I guess I'd stop expanding my mine if I hit a river like this, too,_ she thought.

Kivan came down the tunnel behind her. He spared only a moment to look at the lava, then he grabbed the rough edge of the wall where the tunnel they stood in met the river tunnel and leaned out just far enough to look up and down the lava flow. "There is a bridge not far from here," he said.

-.-.-

The tunnels on the far side of the lava river were old and disused, and looked more like natural caves than like mining tunnels. There was a musty smell in the air, and pools of water had formed in several places. There were still kobolds everywhere, of course, and they even encountered a ghoul in an otherwise abandoned tunnel. The kobolds seemed to avoid the ghoul's lair, and they chose to sit down and eat a brief meal there before continuing onwards.

"I hope we don't have to sleep in here," Imoen said.

"I would be happy to leave dwarven ways to dwarven folk," Kivan said.

"Boo does not like it here either. See how he burrows deep into Minsc's pockets?" Minsc held up a leather pouch that held the quivering hamster and let Imoen pet Boo.

Ember chewed a piece of meat thoughtfully and tried not to look at the remains of the ghoul. It'd take them hours to get back to the surface already, and there would probably be more to find before they could turn back. _If only there weren't so many of those damned kobolds!_ She had killed so many of the creatures by now, her icy sword slicing through them as if they were butter, that their deaths didn't really register with her anymore. All she felt was the joy in removing yet another pest, and another, and another... With a sigh, Ember finished her meat.

The next area they passed through could no longer be mistaken for anything but natural caves. Water was dripping everywhere, and pale ooze coated the walls. A large cavern opened up on their right, and as light from their torches fell into it, something moved with a chittering sound.

"Spiders!" Imoen cried. Three spiders, every bit as large as the ones they'd seen exterminated in Beregost, were moving towards them.

"Back, you fools!" Edwin exclaimed. He pulled the oil of fiery burning from his beltpouch and flung the bottle at the spiders. It hit one of them between the eyes, and exploded in a fireball that enveloped all three of the spiders. Edwin grinned smugly as their sounds changed to hisses and gurgles and crackles, and when the fire dissipated, the burnt and disoriented creatures were cut down in no time.

"This is not natural," Kivan said. "Spiders like these would not willingly dwell so far underground."

"They must have been placed here to guard something," Ajantis said. They quickly searched the cave the spiders had been in, but found nothing; no caches of any sort, and no other tunnels were connected to the cave.

"If you think about it," Imoen said, "the shape of the cave means that nobody passing it can see what's inside until what's inside can see them. I think they were guarding the tunnel we were following."

"Excellent thinking, miss Imoen," Ajantis said.

Kivan peered down the tunnel, putting just enough space between himself and the others that the light from their torches would not disturb him. "There is a faint light in the far end. I shall scout ahead. Be quiet." He stripped off his chainmail and ankheg chestplate, and vanished down the tunnel without making a sound.

Kivan was not long gone; when he returned a few minutes later, he could tell them there was at least one more kobold patrol up ahead, near a small lava stream. "Some of the kobolds were carrying flammable arrows. We must be cautious," he told them as he reequipped his armour. They extinguished their torches and moved down the tunnel in single file, stepping carefully and holding on to each other. Kivan stopped them when he was barely within range of the closest kobold, drew his bow, and shot the creature. Its startled companions scrambled to run up the tunnel towards them; Kivan shot the first attacker while the rest of the party fanned out behind him. A large kobold paused behind the rest of the creatures and drew its bow.

"Look out!" Ember shouted, and pushed Imoen to the floor. A burning arrow flew through the space where Imoen's chest had been, narrowly missing the girls.

"Evil kobolds should not try to set little Imoen on fire!" Minsc bellowed. The giant ranger charged down the tunnel towards the kobolds, heading straight for the larger kobold. Two brutal swings of Minsc's sword cut the kobold down just as it was readying a second burning arrow. Minsc extinguished the arrow with his foot, and turned towards the rest of the kobolds.

Progress was smooth after that. The tunnel widened into a large cavern which contained nothing but a large pool of water in one corner. A narrow tunnel led out of the far end.

"Something's not right here," Imoen said. She took a few steps closer, peered at the floor, took a few steps to the side and studied it from another angle, then bent down and fiddled with a barely visible thread on the floor.

"Traps. Lots of them. Just wait there and I'll take care of them," Imoen told them. It wasn't the first time that day that the skills she'd practiced with Winthrop had come in handy; the bridge over the lava river had also been trapped, as a stumbling kobold had perfectly demonstrated by being burned to a cinder, and only Imoen had prevented them from setting off the other two traps on it.

Imoen slowly made her way across the floor, then stood up and stuck her tongue out at a handful of narrow gaps in the wall. "This way, she said, gesturing towards the tunnel. It was curved just enough that they couldn't see the far end, but the tunnel was not long, and they were soon in the largest open area they had found yet. After killing the kobold patrol that awaited them there, they noticed that the cavern, which was half filled by a lake, had a central pillar of rock with a smaller cave entrance in it. A clearly artificial path led to the opening, which had been carved with tools into a door-like shape. Light shone from within.

They entered the cave with weapons drawn. The cave split into three smaller caves immediately past the entrance. Two of the caves still appeared natural, but in the right hand one the stalactites had been cut from the ceiling, and the walls and floors had been smoothened and covered with richly decorated rugs and tapestries. A silk curtain, currently drawn open, hung at its opening, and beyond the curtain they could see a couple chest and a gilded chair. A half-orc dressed in chainmail and a purple tabard was dozing on the gilded chair, a large shield at his side and a morning star resting in his lap.

The half-orc woke with a start as the party entered. "What? Who?" he mumbled, then looked more closely at his visitors. "Tazok must have dispatched you," he cried, standing up from the chair, "and my traitorous kobolds let you pass, didn't they? I knew I could not trust them! Armed as such you have obviously been sent to kill me! By Cyric, not a measure of ore leaves this mine unspoiled and I am still to be executed?! I'll not lose my head over this!"

"Tazok?" Kivan asked quietly. "No, Tazok did not send us." The elf stepped forward, pulling his hammer from his belt. "Tell me what you know of him. Now."

"Tazok did not send thee? Then thou art dead!" The half-orc began casting a summoning spell, but Kivan lunged forward and grabbed him by his throat, interrupting the spell in mid-cast.

"You **will** tell me," Kivan growled.

"T-there, in my chest, are all my letters," the half-orc whimpered. "Take them, and leave me be!" Kivan released the half-orc from his grip and glanced towards the chest.

"Help, my minions, HEEELLLPPP!" the half-orc cried, seizing his only opportunity. A swarm of yabbering kobolds appeared from the leftmost cave. Ember and Minsc immediately attacked the creatures, while Kivan swung his hammer at the half-orc. It struck with a crackle of electricity, but somehow the half-orc seemed unaffected by anything but the blow itself; the arcs of energy appeared to be absorbed into the ground around him. The half-orc retaliated with a swing of his own morning star, and rapidly cast a spell. The floor became alive with a tangle of slimy growths that snarled around everybody's feet. Kivan reeled from the blow he'd received. Unable to move his feet to regain his balance, he fell backwards. The half-orc laughed and raised his morning star.

One of Imoen's arrows pierced the half-orc's shoulder at the same time as three magic missiles struck his chest, and he dropped his shield. Ajantis, whose feet had come free from the growths long enough to move a bit, slashed viciously at the half-orc before extending a hand to Kivan, helping the ranger back on his feet. Behind Kivan and Ajantis, the last of the kobolds died, Minsc whooping with glee as a powerful swing of his sword cut the creature in two.

"I yield, I yield to thee! Accept my surrender?" the half-orc wheezed, his eyes filled with fear.

"Never," Kivan said, and struck hard enough to smash his foe's skull.


	23. Chapter 22: Delving in the Mine

**Chapter 22: Delving in the Mine**

Not all of the dead half-orc's valuables were in his treasure chest; he had been wearing quite a few as well. Kivan took the half-orc's protective boots, a small ring with a bright blue stone, and his symbol of Cyric, which they'd present in Nashkel as evidence. When the elf grabbed the corpse's greasy hair and reached for his dagger, Ember and Imoen hurriedly turned away and busied themselves with the chest.

"Interesting," Edwin remarked, "although I fail to see its purpose. (Cooking, perhaps?)"

"Watch what you say, wizard," Kivan growled.

"Edwin, why don't you go help Minsc and Ajantis inspect the other two caves?" Ember suggested pointedly. Edwin started to say something, but seemed to think better of it. He closed his mouth and walked out of the tapestried chamber.

Ember sighed. _If only he could keep a civil tongue in his head._ She looked at Imoen, who was gleefully pulling spell scroll after spell scroll out of the half-orc's treasure chest, her eyes shining as she examined each in turn and identified it as best she could. _He had better teach her well._

"Hey, look at these!" Imoen exclaimed, holding up two parchments that did not have the characteristic look of spell scrolls. "'My servant Mulahey,'" she read from the first parchment, "'Your progress in disrupting the flow of iron ore does not go as well as it should. How stupid can you be to allow your kobolds to murder the miners?' And then it goes on about poisoning the ore... oh, and Tranzig is his contact! He's in Beregost, at Feldpost's inn! The letter's signed 'Tazok'."

"Let me see that," Kivan said. Imoen handed him the note, and he studied it closely while she unrolled the second parchment.

"What does it say? Is there any more about Tranzig?" Ember asked excitedly.

"No... it says Tazok sent the kobolds and more poison... and that Tazok's superiors hired the Black Talon and the Chill to destroy iron caravans! It's all tied together!"

Ember leaned against one of the tapestries. _All tied together... the raids, the brittle ore, and the bounty on my head._ Her mouth felt dry.

"Tazok is a fiend, amongst the cruelest to walk the earth," Kivan muttered. "He has no heart. Any organization with one such as him in a position of authority..."

"And it must be a powerful organization, too," Ember added. "To succeed at locking down the ore supply to the entire sword coast... and unless Tranzig has more than one master, they're after me as well. I'm beginning to feel surprised I am still alive." She laughed nervously.

"Look on the bright side, Em. Now we get to look into your bad guys and Kivan's bad guys and investigate the iron crisis, all at the same time," Imoen said with a faint grin. "If that isn't a very efficient way to be heroic, I don't know what is."

The silken curtains parted, and Minsc entered the chamber. "Come, hurry! There is an elf in the cave. He is chained to the wall, and he says we are doomed!" the giant exclaimed anxiously. Ember and Imoen hurriedly grabbed the remaining contents of the chest. Along with Kivan, they followed Minsc into the middle cave, where an elf in stained purple robes indeed was chained to the wall. Ajantis was trying to break the shackles while Edwin watched with a look of impatient suffering.

"It is hopeless. You may as well leave me and try to flee," the elf said.

Kivan turned and left the cave, returning a minute later with a keyring. The third key he tried unlocked the shackles, and the robed elf rubbed his wrists painfully. "At last I am free of my dreary prison; five and eighty days are far too long for one of the fair folk to live as a dwarf," he said.

"How did you come to be trapped in such an inhospitable place?" Ajantis asked.

"I am Xan, a Greycloak of Evereska, and as proficient in the ways of magic as any man can be," the elf said.

"(Hah!)" Edwin said under his breath.

Xan did not appear to have heard the remark, and continued unabated. "Alas, I was sent to investigate the strange goings-on about this area. It was a hopeless cause, of course; Mulahey found me, bound me, and took my Moonblade. I have not seen the sun almost as long as I have not seen my home."

"We have Mulahey's treasures. Perhaps your blade was one of them?" Imoen asked.

"Doubtful; the brute probably discarded it when he could not use it," Xan said, but nonetheless he watched eagerly as Ember and Imoen displayed the two finely made short swords they had taken from Mulahey's chest. The elf grabbed the hilt of the frailer looking of the swords, and the blade came alive with white flames.

"It's beautiful," Ember said.

"(How that blade could choose someone like him is unfathomable,)" Edwin mumbled behind Ember.

"Look, Boo, it is another sword of justice!" Minsc exclaimed.

"Do you want something to eat?" Imoen offered.

"Thank you, but we should try to get out of this dismal place, hopeless though it may be."

"We've killed all the kobolds, I think, and Immy disarmed the traps. It should be safe," Ember said drily.

"You found and secured the secret entrance?" Xan asked.

"What secret entrance?" Ajantis asked

"It is nearby. A narrow tunnel that leads straight to the surface; it was my entry point. It was not guarded then, but now its guardians are bound to be insurmountable."

"Of course they are," Ember said.

"So it'd be much faster than walking through the entire mine, right?" Imoen said.

"Show us this tunnel," Kivan said.

Xan sighed. "Very well, but do not say I didn't warn you. Come, let us face the impossible together."

They exited the inner three caves and followed a path that curved to the right around a large pool of stagnant water. There were no lights ahead of them, and they heard no sounds other than the ones they made in their passing. There were little signs of the path being used much; even the rock beneath their feet was slimy.

Something made a wet, slurping sound ahead of them.

"What was that?" Imoen asked nervously.

"The guardians. We shall fight them, even though we are bound to fail," Xan said.

The slime on the floor pulled itself together into several grey, viscous masses on the path ahead of them. A contraction rippled through the closest jelly, and it spat a foul liquid at Edwin. The liquid hissed as it struck his hand. Edwin gasped with pain and fired a volley of magic missiles at the jelly, but the spell passed through the grey goo without causing any damage.

"Curses!" Edwin spat, nursing his wounded hand.

"Bad jellies will not harm any, not even evil wizards, while they travel with Minsc!" Minsc bellowed and charged at the jelly. His large sword cut through it, but the viscous mass closed as the sword passed through it.

"No effect?" Minsc said in puzzled voice. "Minsc needs bigger sword!"

Ember jabbed at the grey ooze with her sword. To her satisfaction, the cold blade froze what it touched, and her cut remained. She slashed it a couple times, dodging a burst of fluid as she did so. Kivan struck the half frozen jelly with his hammer. An electrical charge coursed through the ooze, and it exploded into a patch of wet slime. Xan ran ahead of them, stabbing his fiery moonblade into the next jelly. Ajantis followed closely behind the elf, and his lightly enchanted blade also managed to cut the monsters. Imoen and Minsc remained in the back with Edwin, helping him tend his burnt hand, while the others hacked up the remaining oozes.

"Here is the tunnel," Xan said, pointing at a crevice between two large rocks. "No doubt there will be more traps ahead."

There weren't.

A short while later they were all on the surface, watching the first evening stars appear.

"It is certain to rain later," Xan said.

"We shall return to Nashkel in the morning," Ajantis told Xan, "and thereafter, we shall follow the trail of those behind this. You may come with us, if you like."

"I thank you for your offer, but I must return unto Evereska with all haste and report of these dire straits," Xan said.

"You do that," Edwin said.

They shared some food and gold with the elf. He bade them a hasty farewell, telling them how brave they were to continue against insurmountable odds, and wandered off into the night.

"Em, you know how the stories always describe elves as cheerful, happy people?" Imoen asked as they set up camp beneath a cliff wall.

"Yes?"

"Why are none of the elves we meet like that?"

Ember paused and looked at Kivan, who was making a smokeless fire. "I think he might have been like that, once," she said quietly.

-.-.-

"You there! Is your name Ember of Candlekeep?"

Ember groaned. _This is not funny anymore._ Squinting against the early morning sun, she could barely make out the forms of four armoured women in front of her.

"Hurry up and answer," the woman continued. "Your answer better be the truth, for your life depends upon it."

Ember stood up and noticed that the others were also getting to their feet. She was wide awake now; her blood rushed with the anticipation of battle. "No, that isn't my name," she said. "I think you have the wrong person."

"You lie!" the woman hissed. "Remember what I told you about lying. You were foolish to even try, as my god Cyric allows me to see through all falsehoods. You shall now die, Ember of Candlekeep. You will never interfere with the Iron Throne ever again."

"Fools," Edwin said. He quickly cast a spell, entangling three of the women with thick strands of cobweb. "(How **dare** they disturb my sleep?)" Ember grinned at his muttered statement; it was a sentiment she definitely shared.

The free woman threw a dart at Ember, hitting her unprotected arm. Cursing herself for having taken her splintmail tunic off for the night, Ember gritted her teeth and charged at the woman. With a yell, she thrust towards the woman's chest and skewered her just as she raised her arm to throw a second dart. Ember pulled her sword free from the woman and whirled around. Her friends were firing missiles, magical and otherwise, at the women in the cobwebs. One of them had worked her way free - Ajantis was engaged in combat with that one - while another had freed her arms and was firing burning arrows at Minsc. A magical blast from Edwin finished the archer just as Ajantis broke his foe's neck, and the last woman fell to Imoen and Kivan's arrows moments later.

With the battle over, the burning pain in Ember's arm began to draw attention to itself again. She looked at her arm and grimaced when she saw black ichor mixed with blood seeping from the dart wound.

"Here, little Ember. Boo told me you were hurting," Minsc said, holding out an antidote and a healing potion.

"Thank you, Minsc," Ember said with a smile. She swallowed the antidote and then the healing potion, and was relieved to see the wound close cleanly even as the pain was fading.

"Who is the Iron throne?" Imoen asked.

"A trading coster of some importance," Ajantis said. "If I recall correctly, they deal mostly in iron, but also in other supplies, and their methods are rumored to be on the unsavoury side."

"The perfect candidates for housing Tazok's and Tranzig's superiors, in other words," Ember said.

Kivan briefly examined the bodies. "None of them carry letters," he said. "They were well equipped for combat; the leather armours are magical, and they have many potions."

"I don't think they were bounty hunters. They sounded more like bodyguards, or perhaps mercenaries," Ember said.

"But they **were** sent here to wait for you," Imoen said.

"Maybe they were just told 'Ember of Candlekeep is meddling, get rid of her' with no mention of the fact that I've been wanted since before I ever had a chance to meddle?"

"Why does it matter what they were told?" Edwin asked irritably. "We are only wasting time here, and I doubt those who are after you will tell every insignificant minion why they want you dead - especially when those minions are stupid enough to reveal who hired them **before** your life is bleeding out of you. (Why do I have to be the only one capable of seeing the big picture?)"

Ember chuckled. "You have a point, I guess," she said. After all, it didn't really matter if those after her head were paid or ordered; she'd deal with them all just the same.

"Let us ready ourselves and leave this place," Ajantis said.

Ember bent down over the dart thrower's body and began stripping it of the magical leather armour.


	24. Chapter 23: The Valley of the Tombs

**Chapter 23: The Valley of the Tombs**

"That was hardly necessary, I believe," Ajantis told Edwin even as he healed the acid burn on the wizard's shoulder. They had met another mage, one that researched the summoning of jellies. Edwin had requested the summoning spell, and the wizard had promptly summoned two mustard jellies and attacked them. Both jellies and the wizard lay dead at their feet, but they had all learned to respect the jellies' secretions.

"How was I to know he would react like that? (Just look at my poor robe!)," Edwin said sourly.

"Eddie, I don't think you would have given him the spell if you were in his shoes," Imoen pointed out.

"I think we're better off without it, anyway," Ember said. "I'd rather not have jellies following me around."

"Boo does not like the jellies either," Minsc said. "Hamsters can only attack with sharp, pointy teeth when they are not sticky."

"He wouldn't be so cute either if he were all stickied," Imoen said and scratched Boo's chin. The hamster squeaked contentedly.

"The mage carried these scrolls," Kivan said. He'd examined the mage's corpse and found three spell scrolls in a bag at the mage's side.

Imoen took the scrolls eagerly and glanced at each one. "Sorry, Eddie, none of them are summons or charms. This is burning hands, and this looks like web, and this ...it's some form of evocation."

Edwin grabbed the edge of the scroll and pulled it towards him. "Lighting bolt. The smallest child in Thay could tell you that! (Although she does make progress, for a barbarian.)"

Imoen smiled sweetly at the wizard. "I heard that. Thanks, Eddie."

"You heard nothing, and do not call me that! (How many times must I tell her...)"

"Whatever you say, Eddie. So, if every child in Thay is familiar with that spell, I suppose you already know it?"

Edwin mumbled in response.

"What did you say?" Imoen asked.

"There are more important spells than that," Edwin muttered.

"So you don't know it, then."

"No."

Imoen grinned and handed him the scroll. "Here. You can show me how you memorize it later," she said. Edwin's eyes lit up, and he quickly put the scroll away in a satchel.

Ajantis watched the exchange with a frown. "Miss Imoen, are you sure it is wise to give him such a spell?" he asked as soon as Edwin was out of earshot.

"Well, I don't want that spell. I've read about it; people who try using it usually end up frying their allies, or even themselves, if they are dumb enough to try using it indoors. That's why it's usually only seen in stationary traps. And Eddie **does** know his stuff when it comes to fire spells and conjuring spells, so I doubt he'll do anything stupid with it. Don't look at me like that; even though you don't trust him, I do. Enough to give him spells like that, anyway."

"Why do you keep calling him Eddie?" Ember asked.

"Because it annoys him, of course!" Imoen grinned wickedly.

-.-.-

As it turned out, the mustard jellies were not the only acidic creatures in the valley; they had only travelled a mile or two onwards when they were attacked by a pair of ankhegs. The giant creatures had burrowed up from the ground right in front of Minsc, and only quick thinking had prevented casualties; Ember and Ajantis had each distracted one of the beasts while the others attacked with arrows and spells. Ember had been able to dodge the creature's acidic blasts and had suffered nothing worse than a few scratches from its mandibles, and Ajantis's armour and shield had protected him from the brunt of his ankheg's onslaught. _It served me well,_ Ajantis thought as he looked at the charred and blistered lump of metal which was all that remained of his shield, which his father had presented him with on the day he joined the Order. _Father would be well pleased to know his gift saved me on this day._

Ajantis placed the ruined shield gently on the ground and walked to the outskirts of their temporary camp. Minsc and Kivan were busily stripping chitin plates from the dead ankhegs; the creatures were rare, but the materials rarer, and Imoen had suggested that the smith in Beregost might be able to to craft it into armour. Ember was standing beside them, holding open a burlap sack that had previously held their blankets and watching intently as the two rangers worked on the segmented ankheg carapaces. Imoen and the Thayvian were kneeling on a blanket some twenty paces away from the ankheg carcasses. The wizard had grumbled about the proliferation of acidic creatures in this valley, but had quieted down now. Evidently, he was scribing the spell Imoen had given him, while she watched the process. A flask of water and a napkin holding a few morsels of waybread and cured meat lay on the blanket beside her; the remains of a hasty meal.

Ajantis turned away from his comrades and assumed a guard stance, facing the valley ahead of them. It was the least he could do, and it had the added benefit of not having to see the wizard, he admitted to himself. It saddened him to see the bad influence the Thayvian had upon the young ladies. Imoen was spending more time with him than was good for her in the pursuit of magical knowledge - if he had managed to get Xan to stay with them, he would have attempted to turn her tutelage in a more wholesome direction - and Ember...

He sighed quietly. Whether or not the others had noticed her transformation, there was a large difference between the wide-eyed girl he had met on the Coast Way and the woman who had unceremoniously looted the mercenaries they had killed that morning. She had had a sweetness about her, a pragmatic innocence; those qualities were fading from her, only to be replaced by a ruthless edge, and it pained him to watch it happen.

The bounty on her head and her increased exposure to death must take some of the blame, of course, but she would no doubt fare better without such unsavoury companions as Edwin Odesseiron. By Helm, his skin all but crawled only to look at the man! He did not understand how the others could ignore the undercurrent of selfish avarice that pervaded everything the wizard said and did. He tried his best to counteract the wizard's evil influence on both the young ladies, to guide them true when he felt the Thayvian led them astray, but so far his efforts appeared to be to no avail.

Something moved in the distance.

A man was running down the length of the valley, heading in their direction. Ajantis drew his sword and waited. "Halt! Who goes there!" he called out when the man was within hearing range.

The man skidded to a halt. "Please no... don't let him get me... please..." he stammered, half out of breath.

Ajantis lowered his sword slightly. "Settle down sir, just settle down. No one here is going to hurt you. Tell me what your problem is," he said in a gentle tone.

The man stared wildly at him. "You! You can take it to him! Here! Give it back!" The man fumbled a dagger with a black blade out of his pocket, and thrust it into Ajantis's hand.

Ajantis studied the blade. It was sharp, very sharp, and black as night. There was a sense of evil about it.

"That looks unpleasant," Ember said; the others had clearly noticed the commotion and had gathered behind him, Ajantis observed.

"It holds powerful magics, certainly," the wizard said.

"Probably nothing good, though," Imoen said, eyeing the blade suspiciously.

_At least they still see ill in the blade and not just the power it must hold,_ Ajantis thought with a tinge of relief. "Where did you get this blade? Whom should I return it to?" Ajantis asked the man, who was still quavering and panting in front of him.

"A cave!" the man exclaimed. "It's but a short ways east... the dagger lay in a chest... I took it... oh by all that's good, I must have disturbed its slumber with my foolishness, for a voice like the grave screamed at me from the walls! Please! I shall go mad if it is not returned! Take the dagger to the cave..." The man burst into tears.

_Undead,_ Ajantis thought. _He must have disturbed a tomb in which they found no peace. For their sakes and his, we must put them to rest._ "Never fear," he told the man, "we shall return the dagger for you."

Ajantis secured the dagger to his belt while the others finished their business. The wizard was long done with his spell and had merely been talking with Imoen by the time the man showed up, and Kivan and Minsc were all but done with the carcass. They were soon headed eastwards, guided by the very nervous man, who had calmed down enough to tell them his name was Hentold.

"There," Hentold said, pointing nervously towards a cave on a sheer, rust coloured cliff face. "I... I dare go no further." A horrid screeching and caterwauling could be heard even from outside.

"Wait here," Kivan told Hentold. They lit some torches and carefully entered the cave. They spotted the chest Hentold had told then soon enough; in addition, they could see two ghouls behind it, groaning menacingly and lurching towards them. Behind Ajantis, Imoen stifled a scream.

Ajantis wasted no time. He put one hand across the eye of Helm that was embossed on his chestplate, and stretched the other forward in a warding gesture. "Begone, in the name of Helm!" he shouted. The ghouls hesitated, and one of them backed away. The other was struck in the chest by two arrows, then Minsc charged, bellowing about ranger and hamster justice putting the nasty undead to sleep. Ajantis's attempt to turn the ghouls had left them weakened, and they were no match for the living group.

The cries for the dagger continued unabated even as the ghouls fell and crumbled to dust. _Rest in peace, poor souls,_ Ajantis thought, then focused on the source of the screams. Their task would not be over until they had eased its suffering as well.

"Return unto meeeeee! RETURN!"

It appeared to be coming from behind a large stone, which evidently held a tomb behind it.

"Be ready," Ajantis whispered. "Minsc, Kivan; help me move the stone."

"I can help too!" Ember said, and stepped forward even as the rangers did. Ajantis opened his mouth to protest, then closed it; in truth, the young lady was not much weaker than he himself was, and would probably be able to assist in moving the rock.

"Miss Imoen, wizard; be ready. We do not know what we will face," Ajantis said. Imoen nodded grimly in response; the wizard huffed impatiently.

With their combined efforts and Minsc's immense strength, the stone was soon loosened. "Roll it aside... NOW!" Kivan cried. Everyone heaved, and the stone rolled aside.

"Thief will pay with DEATH! RETURN! RETURN the dagger!"

It was no ghoul; it was something much more dangerous. The creature that loomed over them was half translucent, with eyes that seemed to glow with rage. _A revenant. By Helm, can we battle something this powerful and hope to win?_

The revenant seemed to glare at Ajantis. "Dagger! You have the dagger. Give to ME!"

"What... what dagger are you talking about exactly?" the wizard stammered nervously behind Ajantis. "(I must know what we are surrendering!)"

"The dagger... of he who murdered me... the dagger of Alatos... kept from me, to mock me... return the DAGGER!" the revenant howled.

_That wizard will be the death of us all!_ Ajantis hurriedly pulled the dagger from his belt and held it out. "Take your dagger!"

The revenant grasped the weapon. Its eyes lost their glow, and a delighted expression formed on its ghostly face. "At last... the dagger..." it gasped, holding the weapon to its breast.

Ajantis reached for the hilt of his sword, but he soon saw there would be no need for it. _The gods are with us. And with him._

Before their eyes, the lost soul crumbled to dust, the weapon that had once killed him crumbling along with him.


	25. Chapter 24: Morning in Nashkel

**Chapter 24: Morning in Nashkel**

Ember was once again in the revenant's musty tomb. The revenant itself was standing motionlessly near the wall, behind an opened chest. She looked into the chest. The black dagger lay on the bottom, glowing faintly. As Ember bent over the chest, the glow pulsated and brightened, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Ember covered her eyes.

The tomb flooded with light.

Darkness returned.

Ember was in the mine. The dead Mulahey had taken the revenant's place, standing as still as it had. His body was swollen and bruised, and his face held no expression. The chest was still there, as was the dagger; now made of bone, it rose slowly out of the chest and hung in midair, its tip aimed at Mulahey. Mulahey had not moved, but she could tell he was watching the dagger. A look of hopelessness filled his milky eyes.

The dagger glittered coldly in the dark cave, its whiteness far more sinister than its earlier blackness. It was waiting for her. Waiting for her to guide it to Mulahey's bloated chest and bury its gleaming blade into the half-orc's unbeating heart. A death beyond death.

Ember's skin crawled. _If you kill a dead man, what do you kill?_ She turned away from the blade and looked directly at Mulahey. "Leave," she said. "Go to your judgement; you'll not get it from me."

Relief and gratitude showed on Mulahey's slack face, and the corpse shambled forward, towards and through Ember. She flinched as it passed through her body, but to her surprise, a calm warmth filled her. _I did the right thing,_ she felt with absolute certainty, and she turned and watched with a smile as Mulahey faded away.

Something screamed in rage and anger behind her. Ember whirled around to see the bone dagger hurtling towards her, aimed at her heart. "You... WILL... learn!" a voice, strange and familiar and utterly displeased with her, called out.

She woke up just as the dagger should have struck.

Sitting bolt upright and clutching her covers, it took Ember a few moments to recognize her surroundings. She was in a soft bed at the Nashkel inn. Morning light was filtering in through the thin white curtains, and Imoen was fast asleep in the other bed.

_Just a dream,_ Ember told herself, rubbing her eyes and breathing deeply. It was just a dream, and it had passed. _If only it hadn't felt so __**real**__..._

Knowing there would be no more sleep for her, Ember got out of bed and quietly put on her leggings and tunic. Hopefully, some fresh air would clear her head and help her shake off the dream. She glanced at Imoen as she pulled on her boots, and smiled. Imoen could sleep through the worst of thunderstorms, but Ember still made an effort to be quiet whenever she got up early, especially after late evenings. Last night had been one of those; Mayor Ghastkill had invited them to celebrate the clearing of the mines at the tavern last night, and they had been there till past midnight, talking and laughing and dancing and listening to many heroic ballads, including one a bard named Volo had composed about their deeds in the mines. As a result, Ember didn't expect Imoen to wake up for quite a few hours yet.

Almost as an afterthought, Ember picked up her sword on the way out of the room. With things the way they were, it was probably best to not go anywhere unarmed, not even on the street just outside the inn. _Besides, Ajantis would never let me hear the end of it if I did that,_ she mused as she left the room.

Outside, the sun was shining, but the morning air was heavy with moisture, and dark, dense clouds were rolling in from the south. There would be rain, and quite a bit of it, before evening. She crossed the empty street and sat down on the river bank. She dug the tip of her sword's scabbard in between the pebbles, and rested her hands and head on the hilt.

She knew the sword's name and nature now; High Watcher Nalin had scried it yesterday. Varscona, it was called. The blade had belonged to a fierce lady warrior, a Sharran, and it had been entombed along with her as part of a ritual which was supposed to lead to her rebirth. This ritual had never been completed, and she and her sword had lain there for centuries, forgotten by everyone. According to Nalin, rumor said that the warrior's anger and fury had been concentrated in her sword over the long centuries; some even said that she had become one with her weapon ere it was rediscovered. All that was known for certain was that the weapon was far more powerful now than when it was first lost.

Ember wondered how Greywolf had come to wield it.

A sharp point of metal dug into her back. "I am Death come for thee," a low male voice said behind her. "Surrender, and thy passage shall be ...quicker."

_Gods damn it!_

Ember flung herself sideways and away from the blade, pulling her own sword out of its scabbard as she did so. A man dressed almost entirely in black stood on the top edge of the riverbank. A cloak of black silk billowed around him, and he held a short sword. _A fop. I can do this._ "I'm not surrendering to anything," she growled.

The man smiled coldly. "Struggle if you must, dead one. I do not mind working for my money." With that, he lunged at her. She blocked the sword with her own, but she was too slow to block the dagger in his other hand. One quick thrust, and there was a deep gash in her side. Ember cried out in pain and slashed at the assassin. He dodged it easily, and let his short sword cut across her belly. Ember's vision swam, and it was getting hard to breathe. She fell to her knees.

The man chuckled, casually sheathed the dagger, and pulled her head back by her hair. "Is that all you have? Pathetic! Why Nimbul has been hired to deal with the likes of you, I'll never know!" He raised his sword for the final blow.

Ember glared at him and pressed her hand to her belly. Immediately, the blue glow of a healing spell enveloped her, all but closing the cut on her belly. The assassin took a step backwards in surprise; before he could recover, Ember thrust her sword upwards and through him.

"Im.. impossible," the assassin whispered on bloodstained lips, then died.

Ember slowly got to her feet. _Healing potions..._ she paused. She still felt able to heal. She placed a hand on her side and willed it to be whole, and a second healing spell burst from her fingers, closing the wound. Ember laughed harshly. _Twice a day now, eh?_

She pulled her sword from the assassin's body, wiped the gore off on his black silk cloak, sheathed her blade, and threw up.

-.-.-

"'Nimbul,'" Imoen read from the parchment the assassin had been carrying, "'The money you have received from Tranzig should cover your usual fee. Your assignment is a difficult one, but I'm sure that you are up to the task. There is a group of mercenaries who should be coming through Nashkel in the next few days. They are led by a whelp named Ember. You are to kill Ember, and all that travel with her. I warn you; they might not look like much, but they are very dangerous. Good hunting!' It's signed Tazok."

"Minsc does not think little Ember looks like a puppy," Minsc said. They were all gathered around a table in the inn, eating fresh bread straight from the oven and cold meat. A healing potion had taken care of what remained of Ember's wounds, and Imoen had fetched her some new clothes while she washed off the blood. As she sat at the table, dressed in fresh clothes the colour of charcoal, there was nothing to indicate that Ember had almost died an hour earlier.

"Tazok is quite the letter-writer, but he has clearly never heard of subterfuge. (That letter could not possibly be plainer!), Edwin said.

"Yeah," Imoen said in agreement. "If he thinks we're dangerous, why doesn't he try to hide his intent a little? 'I hope you know who paid you for clearing out the vermin. Watch out, they bite. Signed ugly bufflehead.' That's what I would do."

"At the very least, he should have instructed his minions to destroy such damning evidence when they received it! (It is almost embarrassing to be up against such simians.)"

"This assassin must have been certain of his success. He did not believe Ember could best him," Ajantis said.

"And he was almost right," Ember said drily. "If not for my healing gift, I would have been dead."

Ajantis nodded somberly. "It is a blessing that you had your sword with you."

"What worries me," Kivan said, "is that they sent a hired killer after you. Not mercenaries, not random bounty hunters; a specialist. We must be on our guard."

"I think we should head north after Tranzig as soon as possible. If he learns that this assassin failed before we get there, he might flee," Ember said.

"Boo thinks we should not travel on the road, but in the woods. Then nobody will see us and tell the little evil men before we kick down their doors with boots of justice!"

Imoen smiled. "Speaking of boots, we should ask Nalin about these before we leave," she said, holding up the assassin's boots.

They all finished eating and got up from the table, heading off to make preparations to travel; Imoen and Edwin went to the temple to identify the boots, while Kivan and Ajantis took their superfluous armour and weapons to the store. Ember's old suit of splint mail was amongst those goods; they had acquired a magical suit of chainmail that offered the same protection with half the weight, and she would be wearing that from now on. She started up the stairs to adjust her new suit of armour, but Minsc stopped her.

"Minsc was not there to help you this morning," the giant said. "Minsc is very sorry."

Ember smiled at him. "It's not your fault, Minsc. You could not have known I'd be awake and about that early. And it ended up all right, didn't it?"

"Little Ember is right, but Minsc should still have been there to scare away the evil men that won't let you think in peace. Next time, you can wake Minsc up, and he and Boo will watch for you."

Ember squeezed Minsc's shoulder, grateful for his offer. "Thank you; I think I'll do that next time. Perhaps we can even talk a bit, instead of me thinking alone?"

Minsc beamed at her. "Minsc likes talking! And Boo likes listening, especially if he has some grain to nibble!"

"Boo can listen all he wants," Ember said with a grin. She leaned forward and scratched the hamster's back. "I'll keep some treats handy, just for him."

-.-.-

They left a note with the innkeeper for the mayor, expressing their regrets about their swift departure, and headed out of town before the morning dew had evaporated from the fields.


	26. Chapter 25: Feldepost's Inn

**Chapter 25: Feldepost's Inn**

"Your iron or your life!" bellowed one of the three half-ogres that were blocking the path ahead.

"No, your iron **and** your life!" another of the half-ogres suggested.

"Yeah, that one's better," the first half-ogre said. "Your iron **and** your life!" he shouted.

_Well, that's new,_ Imoen thought with a small grin. In the past two days, they had found that the hilly woodlands east of the road between Nashkel and Beregost were crawling with bad guys. Yesterday, they had killed a swarm of xvarts who were menacing a poor farmer's only cow, a sweet-natured black and white thing named Arabelle, as well as a group of ogres who were actually eating a man when they came across them. Today, three men wearing red and black had demanded their lives as toll for passing through a gulley; they were dead now, and Kivan had taken their scalps.

"Why do you want our iron?" Ajantis called out to the half-ogres, who were still several dozen paces away.

"Yeah, what's wrong with our gold? Everyone else seems to want that," Imoen remarked quietly.

"Ours no good!" The first half-ogre shouted. "Crumble like elf-bones and make our Clan into laughingstock! Ha ha, big joke... We kill you quick, no pain. Just take iron."

"Yeah, we kill you. Maybe eat you later, once iron smelted," the third of the half-ogres said.

"Fine. Come and get our iron!" Ember called out to them.

The skirmish did not last long. The half-ogres wore little armour other than helmets, and while they were stronger than even Minsc was, two of them had swords that were barely more than fire pokers. It was an easy task for Imoen to pepper them with arrows, and one of them fell to the ground with a thud, one of Imoen's arrows sticking out of his neck. The third half-ogre had a better weapon, and managed to hurt Ajantis pretty badly before he was cut down.

Imoen examined the one good blade while Ember healed Ajantis with her magic touch. The sword was very large, very sharp, very well made, and, as far as she could tell, enchanted much the same as Ajantis's blade and her own short sword were. She grabbed the hilt and tried to lift the weapon, but it was far too heavy for her.

"Minsc, come here!" she called out.

The large ranger approached her with a smile. "Does little Imoen need help?" he asked.

"What do you think of this sword?" She gestured towards the blade in question.

Minsc looked at the sword. "That is the sword the evil ones wanted to use to cut up little Imoen and little Ember for their dinner!"

"Yep! Since he doesn't need it anymore, I was wondering if you could use it, and turn it into a sword of justice instead?"

Minsc lifted the sword with ease and studied it closely, his face scrunched up in concentration. "It is a very big sword. Many evil men would run away from this sword, wouldn't they?" He turned towards Boo, who was sitting on his shoulder. "Boo, do you think... yes? Boo agrees! Minsc has larger sword! Evil, beware!"

"And hamsters and rangers everywhere, rejoice! Right?"

"Yes! And little Imoens, too, if they want to!"

"Of course they do!" Imoen smiled happily and hugged her large friend.

-.-.-

Feldepost's Inn was the largest and most opulent building in Beregost, and its clientele as diverse as the citizens themselves. Ember and her companions arrived at dusk, the busiest hour of the evening. Courtesans were already milling around outside the inn, and Edwin glanced longingly at one or two of the women until a heavily painted lady waddled towards him and asked if he wanted to look at her diddeys.

"Your ...'diddeys'?" he snorted with disgust. "Madam, you appear to have mistaken yourself with a bovine, and I am not about to waste my considerable erotic talents on a woman with the level of taste and intellect that such a delusion of identity implies. (Can't they even groom their concubines right in these barbaric lands?)" Edwin gathered his robes around him and turned and walked away with an expression of perfect superiority.

"Moo," Imoen said as they walked up the steps to the inn. Edwin glowered at her; she grinned sweetly in return.

The inn was packed with merchants and farmers, all busy with the important task of merry-making. Several inebriated farmers were sitting at the closest table; one of them looked at them, scowled, and got up from his seat. "'Ere now, get out! I don't like your type in here!" the farmer yelled, waving a beer mug in a menacing manner.

"Ignore him; he is drunk," Kivan said quietly. "Where is the innkeeper?"

"Over there! He has many pretty things on the wall," Minsc said, pointing to their right.

The farmer approached them. "Hey! I told you to get lost! Ain't no room here for ye trouble makin' strangers!" he yelled, brandishing a balled fist under Ember's nose.

Ember stepped backwards. "No need to get all bent out of shape," she said. "There's plenty of room for us all."

"I take whatever shape I want! I'm sick of you freakish adventurers going out, consorting with gods know what, and dragging your trouble back into my home town! What do you say to that!?"

"Hey, we solve a lot more trouble than we cause. From our point of view, anyway," Ember said with a chuckle, realizing that they weren't exactly the Iron Throne's idea of problem-solvers.

"Oh, you think it's funny, do you?!" the farmer yelled. "You mess up the local economy with your treasure, you upset the balance of nature, you flash your magic around, and because of it maybe somebody's son thinks it's fun and goes out and gets himself killed!"

"At least it sounds like he had a choice about the matter, unlike some people I could mention," Ember said. _Fun, indeed... although I have to admit it has been more interesting than I'd ever have expected._

"He was a good boy 'til your kind came through town! Filled his head with nonsense they did, and because of it he's dead!"

Ember glared at the enraged farmer. "Perhaps you should ask yourself if he wouldn't have left anyway!"

"'Tain't true! He was going to take over the farm and settle down. Maybe apprentice with Thunderhammer during the winter. He never wanted to adventure."

"That was what you wanted, Marl!" one of the other farmers interjected. "Yer blaming these folk fer what couldn't be helped. That boy was a firebrand if ever there was..."

"No! He was settling down! He wanted... he wanted..."

"That new plow ye bought last year, he got the gold by helping clear kobolds near Ulgoth's Beard. He wanted to make a difference, make the Realms a bit safer. Just like these folk, most likely," the other farmer pointed out.

"By Chauntea, why couldn't he just stay home?!" the farmer moaned.

Ajantis stepped forward and gently placed a gauntleted hand on the farmer's shoulder. "Good sir, it is never that simple. The realms call, and you go. He sounds a fine lad taken too soon, but doing what he was meant. If you will suffer my company, I'll buy a round and toast his memory with you."

The farmer nodded slowly. "'Twould be fitting, I suppose," he said, and raised his mug. "To Kennair Nethalin! Rest ye well!" the farmer cried, and emptied his drink. He placed the mug on the table and wiped an eye. "I... I would be alone awhile," he muttered, and wandered off.

"Well... 'tis the calmest I done seen him in a week," the other farmer said. "Still, best you move along. Marl ain't known for his steady moods."

"We shall take your advice, good sir," Ajantis said. "May his grief loosen its grip soon."

They made their way through the bustling crowd to the right wall, where the innkeeper stood behind a bar of meticulously polished beechwood. The wall behind him was completely covered by finely carved shelves. The lower shelves were filled with bottles of wine, but the upper shelves displayed an impressive array of books, jewelry and fine weapons. A suit of chainmail, much like the one Ember wore, hung from a mannequin in the corner. The innkeeper himself was a richly dressed man, and he smiled pleasantly at them.

"Ah, adventurers! May I interest you in some of my fine items? I stock only the best quality! Or perhaps a drink, to wash away the dust of the road?"

"Thank you for your generous offers, good sir, but there are matters that must be attended to first," Ajantis said. "We are seeking a man named Tranzig. We were told we could find him here."

The innkeeper sighed wearily. "Yes, I do have a guest named Tranzig. You have messages for him, no doubt."

"Is he here now?" Kivan asked.

"I believe so. Shall I fetch him for you?"

"It would be preferable if you could show us to his room," Ajantis said.

The innkeeper straightened himself. "As a rule, I do not tell others where my guests' rooms are, not even their friends. Tranzig may show you himself, after I fetch him."

"He is not our friend," Ember said.

"Indeed?"

"We are investigating the iron crisis," Ajantis said. "Tranzig is implicated, and it is of utmost importance that we question him."

The innkeeper's astonished expression did not last long; his mouth became a tight line, and his brow furrowed in an angry scowl. "I should have known that little weasel was up to something. He is upstairs, the first door on the right. Feel free to take whatever measures you must to aid your cause."

Ajantis bowed. "Thank you for your cooperation, good sir. We shall do our very best to not inconvenience your other guests."

They moved quietly up the stairs. The hallway was covered with opulent carpets, which served them well; the sound of their footsteps was muffled. Imoen examined the lock of the first door on the right.

"It's not locked," she whispered. Ember immediately stepped forward and opened the door. Inside, a heavyset man in black mage robes was gathering items in a burlap sack. _Bald, burly, black robe, dour face... a perfect match to the description we were given._ At Ember's entry, he stopped packing his bag and glared at her.

"Why do ya bother me?" Tranzig demanded. "Can't ya see that I'm in a hurry?"

"Perhaps you could tell us **why** you are in such a hurry?" Ember asked casually.

The mage glared at her. "Git outta my face before I hurt you, little girl!"

Ember smiled and opened the door further. Her companions filed into the room. "You won't be rid of us that easily," she said. "We know you're up to no good, you see. So you'd better tell us everything you know."

The mage's face fell, but he quickly composed himself. "Ya know what I'm up to, eh? Well, maybe somethin' ya don't know about is my magic skills. Ya might not believe me, but if you ain't outta my face in the next five seconds, I'll BLAST YA TO KINGDOM COME!"

Edwin laughed coldly. "As if your meager abilities could possibly be a match for my own."

Tranzig gestured rapidly, and a bolt of electricity shot out of his hands, aimed squarely at Edwin. The bolt hit him in the chest and knocked him off his feet, but the current flowed through his boots and into the floor, leaving the red wizard unharmed.

Tranzig was not as lucky. The bolt of lightning ricocheted off of a mirror and headed back the way it came. It struck Tranzig with enough force to slam him into the bed behind him. The air filled with the odour of burnt meat and thunder.

Edwin bent over the other mage, who was jittering uncontrollably as the force of the bolt worked its way out of his body, and laughed. "That is why you never use lightning bolts indoors, you fool! (At least the girl knows better than that. I must remember to thank her for giving me these boots.)"

Ember aimed her sword at the mage's belly, and Kivan held his hammer over Tranzig's head. Minsc and Ajantis stood further away, but they had also drawn their weapons.

"I give up!" Tranzig wheezed as soon as he recovered his voice. "Please, let me live. I'll tell ya anything ya wanna know."

"So speak," Ember said.

"It's not me you want! I'm just Tazok's messenger! I ferry messages between him and a fat cleric named Mulahey. That's all I do!"

"That, and posting bounties, and paying assassins, and petrifying clerics, and cursing militia captains... did I miss anything?" Imoen asked. Tranzig paled.

"Where can we find Tazok?" Kivan asked.

"Tazok? You can find him in the Wood of Sharp Teeth. He's the captain of two groups of bandits. Their camp's always movin', so I don't know how much luck you'll have in findin' them. Please, will you lemme go?"

"Do you know who I am?" Ember asked.

"No! But I'm sure you're very important, very gracious and benevolent..."

Ember grabbed the mage by his collar and pulled his face close to hers. His hair crackled and stood out like bristles on a brush.

"You know, if you were to possess a measure of intelligence that I suspect is far beyond you, I would tell Ember of Candlekeep exactly why you are hiring people to kill her," Edwin remarked.

"Em-Ember?" Tranzig panicked. "I-I don't know! Tazok gave me the orders! I just followed them! I know nothing more!"

"That's too bad," Ember said, and ran Tranzig through with her blade.


	27. Chapter 26: Helpful Old Men

**Chapter 26: Helpful Old Men**

The following morning was cold and rainy, but Ember didn't mind. She had slept better than she had in quite a while, and there had been no unpleasant dreams to keep her awake. She all but bounced down the stairs of the Jovial Juggler, eager to find Ajantis and get some sparring practice before breakfast; she wanted to practice the new feint that Minsc had shown her yesterday.

Ajantis was sitting at one of the tables. His hands were folded in his lap, and there wasn't a piece of armour in sight. Ember was puzzled. _Did he finally run out of equipment to polish and adjust?_ She walked towards him, a bit slower than usual.

"Hello," Ember said.

Ajantis looked up at her. "Good morning, miss Ember. I... there is something I would speak to you of."

Ember took a seat next to him. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Last night, at Feldepost's... you killed a man who had surrendered to you," he said hesitantly.

Ember raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying that we should have let that weasel live?"

"Even though his punishment would most likely have been death no matter what, he should have been turned over to the authorities for judgement once he surrendered. We have done so with bounty hunters and other scoundrels in the past, if you remember?"

"So that he could get a chance to escape, or to send a message to Tazok about us? He'd be a loose end, and I can't afford to leave loose ends. Besides, we were hired to deal with the mines, so we were all but hired to deal with Tranzig." Ember traced a gash in the wooden table with a finger. "He destroyed Commander Brage's family. He turned a woman to stone. He has plotted my death and been a key to creating the iron crisis. His kind deserves no mercy."

"One of the most important qualities of mercy is that it can be given even to the undeserving," Ajantis said quietly.

Ember looked straight at him. "I don't recall you lecturing Kivan when he killed Mulahey after Mulahey yielded."

"Kivan is... he is older, more experienced. His grief runs deep. It is not my place to correct him."

"So that makes it all right, then? He is allowed to be ruthless, and I am not? Would you have objected had he been the one to cut Tranzig down? You know that he was no more willing than I was to let Tranzig leave that room alive."

Ajantis sighed in frustration. "Miss Ember, can you say that you have not changed since you left Candlekeep?"

"Of course I have! I'm stronger, I am more skilled with my sword; I can actually defend myself now from the hordes of assassins that want me dead and wouldn't care for a moment if I tried to surrender to them."

"Have all of the changes in you been for the better?"

Ember furrowed her brow. "What are you talking about?"

Ajantis lowered his gaze. "You do not see; that is part of the problem. Please, miss Ember, think about what I have said. For your own sake." He abruptly stood up and left the table, leaving a bewildered Ember behind.

-.-.-

"That's strange. He doesn't seem to have a problem with killing bandits along the roads," Imoen said after Ember had recounted her conversation with Ajantis. The two girls were conversing quietly outside the smithy while Kivan, Minsc and Ajantis discussed ankheg shell armour with the smith; Imoen had reluctantly decided that she, as a mage, would have no use for the wonderful black suit of shadow armour that Taerom Fuiruim had for sale, and had chosen to wait outside to avoid temptation. Edwin sat under a nearby tree, reading a book and complaining every now and then about the noisy birds.

"Apparently, if someone surrenders they should be taken to the courts and be killed by them, not by me," Ember said. "Oh, but it's okay for Kivan to kill them because he's more experienced."

Imoen rolled her eyes. "I was a bit surprised when **you** killed Tranzig, but he absolutely deserved it. I just thought Kivan would be the one to kill him."

Ember smiled. "I guess Ajantis was surprised as well."

"He's probably just worried about you. But still... hey, haven't we seen him before?" Imoen asked, nodding her head towards an old man wearing red robes and a pointed red hat.

It took a moment for Ember to recognize him; for one thing, he didn't look half as frail and decrepit as he had when they had seen him at the Coast Way crossroads. _Imoen suggested he was a spy; I'm starting to think she was right._

The old man approached Ember. "Well now, our paths cross once more," he said amiably. "I suppose proper introductions are in order, as we will no doubt meet again. My name is Elminster."

_**That**__ Elminster?_ "I've heard of you," Ember said casually.

Elminster smiled. "And I've heard nothing but tales of thy exploits in the time we have been apart. It would seem that thou art destined to have quite the impact on the Sword Coast. Quite the burden for one so young."

"I was not aware that our actions were common knowledge," Ember said.

"Perhaps not common knowledge, but everything is plain for those that know where to look. As it is, I am aware of thine efforts and accomplishments. Thou art quite adept, as Gorion predicted. All that remains is to determine motive."

"Gorion?" Ember asked incredulously. "You knew him? But you said nothing before!"

"'Twas neither the place nor the time for such things."

"What, when Gorion had died not two nights earlier?"

"As painful as the circumstances may have been, it was time for thee to forge thine own path. One of the most valuable lessons that life has taught me," the man said, waving his walking stick at Ember, "is when NOT to go sticking my pipe in other people's affairs. Such is the case now, as well."

"Thank goodness," Edwin said from his seat under the tree. "Does that mean we shall be spared any more of your chatter?

The old man turned to look at Edwin. "It is a questionable mind that disregards a friendly voice, regardless of how nebulous the advice. Nevertheless, I do have one bit of information to impart, though 'tis likely old news for thee. The bandits that thou dost seek make a habit of travelling in the northeast. Fare thee well." He bowed to Ember and Imoen, and walked away.

"Do you think that really was Elminster?" Ember asked the other two.

"He looked old enough," Imoen said.

"Why would Elminster be interested in me?"

"Elminster this, Elminster that... (Give **me** a thousand years, and I'll kick his arse!)" Edwin muttered.

"Jealous, Eddie?" Imoen said.

"I am merely tired of hearing about him. (Especially as I intend to prove once and for all that he is not the pinnacle of wizardhood.)"

The topic soon changed to magic in general, and Edwin and Imoen were busy discussing spell memorization when their three companions came out of the smithy.

"Wonderful news!" Minsc cried. "The nice smith will make plate not only for Kivan, but for Minsc also!"

"We brought sufficient raw material for four suits," Kivan said. "He will complete my suit, construct a suit for Minsc, and keep the rest as payment."

"He was remarkably generous; most smiths of his skill would have kept much more. As it is, we shall now be able to provide our large ranger friend with a fitting suit of the most durable armour," Ajantis said.

"You'll be a green giant! I can already see the kobolds running away in fear!" Imoen said to Minsc, who beamed happily at the thought.

"That's great news! When will the armour be ready?" Ember asked.

"In a tenday or so," Kivan said. "The ankheg shell segments must be cured first. He already has our measurements, so we need not return till the armour is done."

"Taerom was also willing to take that enchanted suit of leather that was too damaged for the shopkeeper in Nashkel. He thinks he will be able to repair it. We exchanged it for something for miss Imoen," Ajantis said, displaying a long, narrow parcel.

"For me?" Imoen said excitedly as Ajantis gave her the parcel. She hurriedly opened it. "It's beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"The kobolds will run in fear from little Imoen as well!" Minsc said proudly as Imoen showed her new bow to Ember. It was made of smooth, dark wood with a perfect bowstring, and was lightly enchanted.

"Thank you so much!" Imoen exclaimed, all but dancing in the street.

-.-.-

It did not take long to acquire the rest of their supplies. They purchased new cloaks made of thinner, lighter wool at the marketplace, and Minsc and Ember found an excellent food vendor that carried waybread, dried meat, and packets of savoury herbs. The last item they needed was a spellbook for Imoen. Edwin had proclaimed her ready to learn to use one, and had also proclaimed under his breath that he was not about to let her foul up his own perfect spellbook with her grubby, untrained hands.

The magic store was a small shop near Feldepost's inn, with large windows of tinted glass in bright colours. Inside, there were several bookshelves along one wall, and stacks of simpler potions and scrolls behind the wide counter that almost spanned the width of the floor. A pretty, young woman stood behind the counter and smiled brightly at the group when they entered. "Welcome to Sally's Sundries!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, yes," Edwin said impatiently. "Do you have spellbooks? (I would not be surprised if she didn't even bother to stock those.)"

"Of course!" the woman chirped. She dove into the pile of goods behind her and emerged with a dozen or more different spellbooks. "This model is more appropriate for a travelling wizard. It is sturdy yet lightweight, has a compact design, and is bound with waterproofed leather. **This** model is especially designed for evokers; it has fireproofing cantrips embedded in its very pages, as a precaution against mishaps. Who is this spellbook for?"

"Me!" Imoen said while Edwin gazed wordlessly at the pile of spellbooks, a stunned expression on his face.

"Ah, is it your first spellbook?" The woman asked. Imoen nodded, and the woman smiled at her. "We'll find you just the thing! Now, will you be travelling much? What schools of magic do you prefer?"

While the saleswoman and Imoen discussed Imoen's wants and needs, Ember glanced around the store. They weren't the only customers there; a thin, old man was standing next to the bookshelves, browsing a selection of tomes about magic and mumbling to himself. Ember realized with a start that this was the second old man she'd recognized that day, but this man was one vastly more familiar than the one who had called himself Elminster.

"Firebead, is that you?" Ember asked.

The old man looked up, and a delighted grin spread across his face as he looked at Ember. "Ah, you're Gorion's ward! Of course! How good it is to see you again!"

Imoen looked up from the spellbooks. "Heya, Firebead!" she exclaimed happily.

"And young Imoen as well! Winthrop wondered what happened to you."

Imoen nodded soberly. "I had to go with Ember, you know?"

"Yes, of course," old Firebead said. "I heard about the loss of Gorion, and I must give you my deepest condolences. I hope since you've left Candlekeep, you've kept up on your reading... Oh, the world of books... I have heard that a new copy of that wondrous tome, 'The History of the Fateful Coin,' can be had for a pretty penny in one of the stores around here. If you would be so kind as to buy it for an old man like myself, I'd gladly reimburse you. I'd even give you a little bonus to help in your travels. It must be so hard with Gorion gone."

Ember smiled. Firebead had a tendency to ramble on and lose track of things, but he was an old dear and had always been kind to her and Imoen. "I'd be happy to help. In fact, I already know a good place to look. If you wait here, I'll go see if that store has it."

Firebead smiled. "You are too kind, my child."

Ember took Kivan and Minsc with her and ran across the street to Feldepost's inn. Her hunch about the innkeeper's wares was soon proven correct; a copy of the book Firebead wanted was indeed to be found on one of the massive shelves behind the bar. She paid for the book, had it wrapped in paper, and ran through the rain back to the magic shop along with the two rangers. They entered to find Imoen and Firebead in a lively conversation about Candlekeep.

The old mage gratefully accepted the book from Ember, and smiled happily while he extracted it from the wrapping paper. "Ah, you are generous to an old man," he said, "so I will be generous in turn. Let me give you another book in exchange. It is a touch darker than what you have given me, but I get a sense that you might enjoy it, nonetheless." He handed Ember more than enough money to reimburse her, along with a small book bound in black leather. Firebead mage shook hands with both the girls, listened as Imoen reminded him to tell Winthrop that they were all right, and left the store, his new prize tucked safely into a wide sleeve.

"He paid for my spellbook!" Imoen said, holding up a slim book bound in soft leather that looked like it could weather quite a storm. "What did he give you?"

Ember looked at the cover of the black book. _Well, this looks like a barrel of laughs..._ "It's 'The History of the Dead Three'," she said.


	28. Chapter 27: Mutamin's Garden

**Chapter 27: Mutamin's Garden**

Ember was in a bad mood even before they encountered the other group of adventurers. Her mood had soured an hour or two earlier, when a lone, armed woman had accosted them. She had challenged their best warrior to a duel, insisting upon only fighting a man, and refused to speak to anyone but Ember and Imoen. And the rewards she had offered for winning... Twenty gold to her if she won, and her sword pledged to their cause if she lost. Ember, not seeing the point of an ally who would not fight women, nor of an ally who only valued her skills to twenty gold, had scoffed and told the woman they were not interested. The woman had flung insults after them as they walked away from her, calling the men cowards and the women spineless and henpecked. Ember had been enraged; if not for Imoen's hand on her shoulder, she would have gone back and told the woman exactly what she thought of her, and not necessarily done so in words.

Shortly after that, they had run into a patrolling group of gnolls. By the time all the gnolls were dead, Minsc had almost entered a berserker rage again.

And now, a group of four humans were blocking the path ahead, leaning on their weapons and grinning. The three men wore suits of armour, while the woman was simply dressed in leggings and a long tunic.

"Hey Lindin, look over here, we've run across some travellers," the woman said lazily to her companions. She walked towards Ember and her friends, halting a few paces in front of them. "Hey there, my name's Kirian. Me and my buds are an adventuring band. You look to be the same, except," she laughed, "a little worse for wear. Still learning the ropes of the business, eh?"

"What are you talking about? Clearly, we are beyond comparison with that rag tag band of yours you call an adventuring party. (Arrogant, posturing simians...)" Edwin said.

Kirian raised an eyebrow. "Really? Come on now, let's be real. Look at yourselves. The bunch of you have about as much style as a pack of gibberlings. The way you hold yourselves, pathetic. All you are is a bunch of hicks who slapped on some armour and weapons and decided that they could be adventurers. It's real sad."

Ember lost her patience. "Sad? I'll show you sad," she growled.

"That sounds like a challenge!" the woman said with another small laugh. "Boy oh boy, you just moved into the big time. We're not some small town hick adventurers, we're Waterhavian, born and bred. Maybe you want to rethink your earlier statements?"

Ember was not deterred. "I think you need a good lesson, and we'll be the ones to administer it to you," she said.

"Ohh, and what kind of lesson is that going to be. Are you going to paddle my rump with a big bad sword?" Kirian asked mockingly, then turned and called to her companions, "HEY GUYS! Let's take these chimps out!"

One of the men ran towards them. He was wielding a sword much like Ajantis's, and the paladin immediately stepped into the charging man's path. One of the other men was casting a spell, while the third was firing arrows at them. Ember ran towards the spellcaster and managed to disrupt his spell, but no sooner had she done that than another spell hit her. _The woman!_ was all she had time to think before panic took her.

A few minutes later, the giant ankheg that loomed over her shrank into Minsc's familiar form. "Gods, I hate that spell," she blurted out.

"Minsc does not like that spell either," the ranger said as he helped her to her feet. "It makes him think Boo wants to eat him, even though Minsc knows better."

Ember looked around. The fight had ended while she was enspelled, and all her friends were still standing. The spellcaster was healing some burn wounds on the archer's arm, Ajantis had taken the other fighter's sword, and Imoen was standing guard over the woman, who was waking up from unconsciousness. Judging by appearances - and by the lingering stench - Edwin had cast a stinking cloud on their opponents while she was incapacitated. "I take it we won?" she laughed.

"Yes, miss Ember," Ajantis said, and handed the sword back to the other fighter. "Leave now. If I were you, I would think again before mocking other travellers on the road."

Kirian gave Ajantis an astonished look, then laughed. "Ah, I hear you are also from Waterdeep! No wonder your little band was so capable. Well played, good sir!" She curtseyed deeply in front of Ajantis, gathered her companions, and headed south.

"Are you well?" Kivan asked Ember. She nodded. "That is good," he said. "Next time, do not let such people goad you into foolishness." Ember blushed with embarrassment and nodded again.

-.-.-

They reached the outskirts of the wood of Sharp Teeth around sunset. There was an unnatural stillness around them; they could hear none of the usual sounds of nocturnal wildlife.

"Something is wrong here," Kivan said.

"Would that be it?" Imoen asked, pointing ahead. The hunched form of a ghoul was slowly shuffling towards them.

Kivan sighed. "Aye," he said.

"Wait, me no want fight!" the ghoul called out in a wet, gargling voice. "Me Korax, me friend!"

"Friend? I never heard of a friendly ghoul before," Ember said.

"Or a talking ghoul," Imoen added.

"It is indeed unheard of," Ajantis said. "The poor creature must somehow retain shreds of its humanity."

Minsc walked up to the ghoul. "Hello, Korax! I am Minsc, and this is Minsc's sword of justice," he said, brandishing his sword under what was left of the ghoul's nose. "You are a very strange friend, and Minsc cannot put sword away till he knows why Korax is a friend."

"Me will be good boy, me promise," the ghoul said. "Me will help you!"

"But why?" Kivan asked.

The ghoul hesitated. "Me know path in woods, will show you!" he said.

"Clearly, an explanation is beyond this creature. (Even though it is one of the smarter beings we have met today.)" Edwin said.

Ajantis chanted a brief spell and looked intently at the ghoul. After a while, he nodded. "I believe it has no ill will towards us, even though it is nigh impossible to read the undead. It is perhaps trying to seek penance for acts committed in its lifetime."

"How do you know it isn't trying to lead us into a trap!" Edwin protested.

Ajantis smiled coolly at the mage. "Its honest intent shows up clearer than yours," he said.

Ember looked at the ghoul. It was standing perfectly still; its one eye had a pleading look about it. "I think we should see where it'll take us," she said. "We may be able to help it, and if it takes us somewhere bad, we might be able to do something about that, too."

"Either way, it'll be interesting!" Imoen said.

"Korax can be our friend," Minsc told the ghoul, "but you must not do anything bad."

"Korax good dog, yes, good dog!" the ghoul exclaimed. It shambled into the woods and looked expectantly over its shoulder.

"The decision is made," Kivan said. "Follow it."

The ghoul was not following a specific path, but as far as Ember could tell, they were moving in a mostly straight line into the woods. The eerie stillness remained. _It's as if nothing is alive here except us,_ Ember thought.

A few minutes later, they came across the first statue.

It was a perfectly sculpted bear, right down to the fur on its back. It was liberally covered by moss and lichen, but other than that, it looked like it was ready to move in a lumbering gait across their path. A second statue stood a bit further off; a gnoll, perfect in every detail. Its snout had broken off.

"Who made these?" Imoen said. "They're... perfect."

"A little too perfect," Ember said as they passed another bear, its paw raised as if to strike something.

They entered a clearing in the woods. At least a dozen statues of bears, wolves, gnolls and humans littered the open space. A living gnome walked from statue to statue, seemingly talking to each in turn. Soon, the gnome noticed them and approached with folded hands and a toothy grin.

"Greetingssss... I am Mutamin," the gnome said. "I hope you enjoy the artwork my pretty lizards have sculpted. They sculpt with their eyessss. They sculpt when nasty travellers come by, yesssss. I don't like nasty travellers. They should keep to the roads." He stuck two fingers between his lips and whistled shrilly. "You will join the beautiful work of art that standssss before you. You will become a piece of the art... forever," he said, grinning wider than ever.

Two large reptiles, one yellow and the other green, lumbered out from between the trees at the far end of the clearing. Mutamin.

"Basilisks!" Kivan hissed. "Do not look at them. Prepare yourselves, quick!" Edwin and Imoen immediately reached into their bags, searching for the appropriate protection scrolls.

The ghoul moved towards the two basilisks. "Korax sorry, but he so very hungry," the ghoul said. "He must eat now! He must eat you!" Ember and her friends watched with astonishment as the ghoul slammed his fists into the creatures' noses.

"They cannot petrify him," Ajantis said. "Now is our chance!" Edwin and Imoen quickly cast protections on everyone, and they all ran towards the basilisks.

"No! No! You cannot do thisss!" Mutamin shrieked. He fired a volley of magic missiles at the ghoul, but it was not enough to destroy the creature. Before he could cast a second spell, Kivan shot an arrow through the gnome's throat.

The basilisks, unable to petrify any of their attackers, were little trouble.

"Korax good doggie!" the ghoul declared when the last of the creatures died, and shambled towards one of the petrified humans; a woman, as far as they could tell in the waning light. Ajantis followed Korax and gently touched the petrified woman.

"Still warm! She lives yet," the paladin cried.

"Bring her back!" Imoen told Edwin, handing him a scroll of petrification reversal. The red wizard rolled his eyes at Imoen, but obediently read the scroll to the statue.

The stone shimmered and melted away, revealing a pale woman dressed in leathers. She moved unsteadily; Ajantis quickly offered her an arm. "What... who are... what has happened?" she asked dazedly.

"Rest yourself, you have likely been petrified for some time now," Ajantis told her.

"Petri...? How...? I remember fighting some gnolls with Korax... he fell... gods, he is gone! And... and then there was this lizard-thing... and then... and then you."

"Korax good boy," the ghoul said. The woman stared wide-eyed at the ghoul.

"He guided us here," Kivan explained.

"Oh, Korax..." the woman sobbed.

"Tamah safe now," the ghoul said.

"Yes," the woman whispered. "Tamah is safe. Thank you, Korax."

"Me must go now."

The woman smiled at the ghoul, tears flowing down her cheeks. "Go, my love," she said.

The ghoul appeared to smile. Its body trembled and fell to the ground. Then, there was nothing but ashes.

-.-.-

Tamah shared their camp that night, and in the morning, she helped check the other statues for signs of life. Unfortunately, none of them were still alive; they were all as cold as natural stone.

They offered to escort Tamah to the Friendly Arm Inn, but she declined. She was used to travelling and more than capable of taking care of herself, she said, and a few healing potions had been more than adequate to restore her health. Ember watched Tamah as she quietly gathered her lover's ashes in a burlap sack so that she could bury him properly. The woman's eyes were full of grief, but her manner was calm and peaceful. _If it were me, I'd probably be screaming and crying and hitting things,_ Ember thought. To her surprise, she realized that she wished she were more like Tamah.

They gave Tamah one of their spare swords, rations for a day's worth of travel, and, despite Edwin's protestations, some gold. She thanked them profusely. "You have rescued a perfect stranger," Tamah said, "and asked for nothing in return. Certainly a selfless act if ever I have heard of one! I shall speak well of you to anyone that asks. Thank you once again!" Then she shook hands with the men, hugged Ember and Imoen, and set out for the Friendly Arm Inn.

"We must also leave. The bandit camp awaits us," Kivan said.


	29. Chapter 28: Woodland Solitude

**Chapter 28: Woodland Solitude**

Seeing as the forest around them held nothing but giant spiders and ettercaps, the old temple ruins kind of stood out like a sore thumb. _I'd have sooner expected to see a giant cobweb,_ Imoen thought. Even more out of place were the four people assembled between the temple pillars; all of them were dressed in red mage robes - much like Edwin, Imoen noted - and the looks they gave herself and her friends were far from friendly.

"Good day, travellers," one of the four wizards, a middle aged guy with a light brown beard, said in an overly polite voice. He squinted against the bright sunlight as he regarded them. "Mmmm... Edwin, I did not expect to see you so soon," he said, his eyebrows raised in either surprise or amusement. "I hope your... business has been attended to, Edwin, for if it hasn't, then you should do so soon."

"Of course! I have -" Edwin said, but stopped abruptly when the other wizard raised a hand.

"I think that Zulkir Nevron would be most disappointed if he were to hear that you failed," the other wizard said. "That is all that really needs to be said. Good day again, and goodbye." With that, the wizard gathered his robes around him in a manner that had become very familiar to Imoen and turned his back on the group.

"What was that about?" Imoen asked quietly.

"That is none of your business. Now, may we leave before yet another spider attempts to foul my robe? (I knew I should have suggested another way!)" Edwin said in a slightly higher tone of voice than usual.

"Scared, Eddie?" Imoen asked.

"Me? Never!" Edwin said even as he hurriedly walked away from the ruined temple. Kivan quietly led the others after the obviously nervous red wizard, and Imoen let the matter lie until they had put quite some distance between themselves and the red wizards at the temple.

When they stopped at a creek for a small break, she broached the subject again. "So, when are you going to tell me what this important business of yours is?" she asked Edwin.

"My business is exactly that..." Edwin replied sourly, "**mine!** (I knew she'd be unable to resist prying, but she'll get nothing out of me!)"

"Oh come on, Eddie; maybe we can even help you with it!"

"Do not call me that! (Oh, what is the use?) And I am not about to trust a task of such delicacy to anyone but my magnificent self!"

"He is up to something sinister, I am certain," Ajantis told Imoen.

Edwin huffily straightened himself and glared at Ajantis. "Whatever I may be 'up to', I assure you that it has not the slightest to do with **you**, great paladin. (Great buffoon, more like.)"

"Edwin, will your task hamper us, and will our task hamper yours?" Ember asked.

"Not in the slightest," Edwin said.

"Then I suggest we let the matter lie," Ember said, looking straight at Imoen and Ajantis. Edwin grinned smugly.

"If you insist, miss," Ajantis said.

"Fine," Imoen said. "Spoilsport," she muttered under her breath.

-.-.-

"Aren't you even curious?" Imoen asked Ember later as they followed a forest path under a lush canopy of branches. Ember and Imoen were in the rear of the group, and had deliberately put some distance between themselves and the men in order to speak more freely.

"Of course I am," Ember replied, "but even I know he won't speak of anything he's decided is beneath him to share with us. He said that the task won't get in our way, and I'm willing to settle with that. I don't think he'd lie to us."

"Yeah," Imoen said, "Eddie's not the lying type, whatever bad things Ajantis says about him. Hey, looks like Kivan is stopping."

When Ember and Imoen caught up with the rest of the group, they saw that the path opened up into a large clearing in the woods. A partial circle of standing stones, some of them toppled and many of them showing scorch marks, stood in the middle of the clearing. The ground had been torn and trampled to dust between the stones.

"A druid grove," Kivan said. "Defiled, by the look of it."

"Who would do such a thing?" Ember asked, aghast at the devastation.

"You know very well who!" A man in a tattered and torn robe hobbled towards them. "Arrogant fools!" he cried. "You return to the very slaughter for which you were responsible. Your blood will soak the ground before I allow any of you to leave! I will avenge the deaths of my brothers!"

"Wait a minute, we've killed no one. We just got here!" Ember protested.

"Calm down, good sir, perhaps we can help you," Ajantis said.

"You think your excuses can work on me! I know what you are, what all of you are! Especially you and you!" he said, pointing accusingly at Ember and Imoen.

"I believe the word he is looking for is 'women'," Edwin muttered. "(He probably never saw one before, much less two.)"

"Let the wrath of Malar destroy you and your faithless companions! Come, my friends!" the man screamed. He whistled shrilly, and was answered with a rumbling roar. Two large, emaciated bears appeared at the east side of the clearing, their eyes all but glowing with rage. Kivan and Minsc turned towards the bears and tried to calm them, but to no avail.

"They are raging just like Minsc does sometimes!" Minsc said.

"Then we must kill them," Kivan replied.

The Malarite dropped all pretense of a limp, and charged with his oaken staff raised high. His first blow struck Imoen hard in the belly, knocking her to the ground. Ajantis immediately stepped up to prevent him from striking Imoen again. He did manage to get between the two, but the man was skilled enough with his staff that Ajantis couldn't land a single blow.

Ember dodged past the pair of fighters and pulled Imoen to safety. "Are you all right?" she asked frantically.

Imoen coughed. "Pretty much," she croaked. "Don't think he broke anything - ow! Careful!" she said as Ember pulled her to her feet.

"Enough of this! (Why must I always do all the work...)" Edwin said. "Duck!" he shouted at Ajantis, and readied a spell. Ajantis glanced hesitantly at the wizard, but obediently threw himself sideways. As soon as Ajantis was clear of their foe, a bolt of lightning shot out of Edwin's hands. It shot through their attacker, knocking him to the ground before glancing off a stone and burning a hole in a tree. The Malarite screamed with rage and struggled to get up, still clutching his oaken staff. Edwin stepped closer and finished the man with a well-placed volley of magic missiles.

One of the bears roared in pain as Minsc slashed its shoulder open. The other bear was already dead, its chest pierced by half a dozen arrows. Ember and Imoen, the latter taking small swallows from a healing potion, watched as Kivan pulled his hammer from his belt and crushed the surviving bear's skull with a swift blow.

"Well done, all," Kivan said, panting.

"Minsc didn't want to kill the poor bears, but he had to," Minsc said somberly. "Boo thinks they are happier this way."

"I think Boo is right, Minsc," Ember said, patting the giant's shoulder. "They looked about as insane as the man was."

"Aye," Ajantis said. "I... I believe I have underestimated you, wizard."

"Of course you have. (I could have told you as much, if I had had any desire to do so.)"

"We have a visitor," Kivan said quietly.

A man dressed in raw leather and a ragged, filthy cloak appeared between two of the standing stones. "So, Osmadi is dead," he said, leaning on his gnarled staff. "I suppose he attacked you?"

"That he did," Ember said.

"I must apologize for his actions," the newcomer said. "He had lost his mind after what happened here some days past. A group of bandits, calling themselves the Chill, entered our camp as we worked upon this shrine. They killed and murdered everyone they came across, including some of Osmadi's close friends."

"I would have thought him a druid, but he invoked the Beastlord," Kivan said.

"Such is - or rather, was - the extent of his madness," the man said.

"Why did you leave him alone here, if you knew he was like that?" Imoen asked.

"There was nothing that could be done... he had lost his mind. I think you can understand that. Sometimes one doesn't have a choice."

"That's not what I asked. I asked why you left him alone if you knew he'd send rabid bears after any strangers that passed by," Imoen said.

"There was no other choice! Do I have to explain myself over and over?" the man cried, distinctly annoyed. "Please leave me be, so that I may bury my companion."

"Actually, you haven't even explained yourself **once**," Imoen said. "And how did you show up so fast, unless you were standing on the other side of the stones all along? You know, if I liked you, I might have thought you were afraid he'd try to kill you as well, but I don't like you. You look like a smelly weasel, and you act like one, too. So unless you **do** explain yourself, I'll just think you were waiting for us to kill him!"

The man opened his mouth, closed it again, and just glared at Imoen.

"(I must admit I am impressed,)" Edwin muttered.

"You... are correct," the man said coldly. "I did need your assistance to kill Osmadi. Thank you for the help."

"You scum! You are worse than a common killer!" Ajantis exclaimed.

"Ah, but I am no 'common killer'," the man said. "I am a shadow druid. I poisoned Osmadi and his companions, fed them plant toxins fit to drive any creature into insanity and fury, so that we could be rid of their weakling presence and make this land our own. They destroyed their own tainted grove and killed each other, and soon nature will rule alone in this place! There is no room for meddling city folk, of course. It is time for you to feel the fury of nature, as only I can administer it. Goodbye!" he shouted, and began casting an intricate spell.

Before the shadow druid could finish casting, Ember ran her sword through his chest. "Goodbye," she said in a casual tone as she pulled the blade from his dying body.

-.-.-

They dragged the body of the shadow druid out of the clearing and left it in a ditch along with the bear corpses. The druid Osmadi, on the other hand, was carefully buried in front of the largest of the standing stones. Imoen and Minsc gathered flowers and made a wreath for the grave; the only spot of bright colour in the entire grove.

As she carefully smoothed the dirt that covered the grave, Ember wondered what Osmadi had really been like, before the poison drove him mad. She wondered how he would have felt to have seen what became of his grove, and what the grove had looked like before this tragedy. _It was beautiful, I am sure,_ she thought as she looked at the devastation around her. _It feels like something wondrous has been lost and turned into a scar._

She wondered if there could have been any other way to save Osmadi.

The cracking sounds of bushes being trampled underfoot heralded the arrival of even more people. _Now what?_ Ember thought irritably.

Half a dozen men entered the clearing. Four wore leather, two wore chainmail, and all of them wore red tabards embellished with a black, clawed hand across their chests. Most of them had bows in their hands.

"Drop ye weapons and and mayhaps ye outlive the day! I'll no be sayin' it twice!" one of the men in splintmail cried, waving a sword in what he clearly thought was a menacing fashion.

With an exasperated sigh, Ember got to her feet and drew her sword.


	30. Chapter 29: Cloak and Dagger

**Chapter 29: Cloak and Dagger**

The bandits that accosted Ember and her friends at the ruined druid circle were soon dealt with, but many more followed; the farther they got into the woods, the more often they came across small groups of brigands. Most of them wore the red and black of the Black Talon, and Kivan's scalp collection had grown visibly larger by nightfall.

On their second day in the forest, they came across a larger group. A dozen or so bandits were squatting around a small fire, eating bread and roast meat. A cloaked person was sitting under a tree.

"Ready?" Imoen whispered to Edwin.

"Of course I am ready! (Foolish girl...)" Edwin replied. He pulled a wand from his belt and activated it with practiced ease, summoning five large wolves. The creatures were glassy-eyed and stood passively around the group, staring at Edwin.

"Kill," Edwin told them. The wolves obediently loped towards the group of bandits, snarling ferociously. Ember and her companions waited a few moments before they added to the attack with arrows, swords, and spells. A bolt of lightning that Edwin shot across the camp proved a very efficient means of scattering the brigands.

The person under the tree had not moved when the wolves charged, but stood up when the attack was escalated. A feminine body was now discernible through the cloak, but her hood was still up, masking her face. Ember walked slowly towards the woman, her sword held ready.

"Free me!" the woman said, holding out her hands. They were bound with a severely knotted rope, and covered with smooth, dark skin. Ember hesitated and glanced uncertainly at her companions. She knew Kivan and Ajantis would not be pleased... _Does it matter what they think? She is our enemy's prisoner,_ Ember decided, and cut the drow woman's bonds with her sword, noting with idle curiosity how frost crystals blossomed on the frayed edges of the rope as she cut it. The drow immediately extended a hand towards one of the bandits and shouted a word. The bandit, who had been chasing Imoen around the fire, fell unconscious to the ground.

"Hey, thanks!" Imoen yelled, and ran her blade through the incapacitated bandit.

Three more brigands were rendered defenseless by the drow's words. When there was only one bandit left standing, she cast an intricate spell on him, freezing him in place with his sword raised to strike Ajantis. Ajantis's unblocked counterattack skewered the bandit, and he died before the spell loosened its hold on him.

"Good work, all," Ajantis said, panting.

"But are we done?" Kivan asked, holding an arrow trained on the woman. Her hood had fallen during the battle, revealing long white hair and a beautiful dark face.

The woman smiled coolly at Kivan. "Yes, you are done," she said before turning to Ember. "I am Viconia. You released me. I thank you."

"What is a drow priestess doing in these woods?" Ajantis asked, an accusing tone in his voice.

Viconia looked haughtily at the paladin. "I was travelling south when these _iblith_ captured me." When Ajantis continued to glare at her, she laughed. "If it is of any consolation, I am no servant of the Spider Queen; the Goddess Shar grants me wisdom, and she is a surface divinity," she said. "Your _darthiir_ could learn much from her, I believe."

Kivan scowled at Viconia. She ignored him, and addressed Ember again. "I know your sword. Treasure it, for it will serve you well. I take my leave of you now; perhaps our paths will cross again." Her tone was defiant, as if she expected them to hold her captive.

Ember sheathed her sword. "Fare well," she said pleasantly.

"Good bye, pretty lady," Minsc said.

Viconia nodded at Minsc. "I advise you to keep that one around. He knows when, and how, to speak," she told Ember. Without further ceremony, the drow woman headed back to the tree she'd been sitting under. Two large sacks were behind them. She opened both sacks and pulled out a hammer, several pieces of chainmail armour and a small pack.

"There is little of worth, even to you surfacers. Take it if you wish," Viconia said as she strapped on the chainmail, which fit her like a glove. She slung the pack on her back, raised the hood of her cloak, and strode majestically down the path away from the bandit's campsite.

"We should have questioned her more thoroughly," Ajantis said after the drow had vanished from sight. "I do not trust her."

_I knew you'd say something like that,_ Ember thought irritably. "There are more important tasks at hand than interrogating the bandits' prisoners about their own motives," she said, her tone a bit sharper than intended.

"Would it have mattered as much if she were less attractive?" Edwin asked. "(Yes, quite attractive... one wonders at the reception she would have had in Thay...)"

"Silence, wizard," Ajantis growled.

Kivan walked up to the closest body and hacked its scalp off.

-.-.-

A few miles further on, they stopped for a meal. Minsc and Kivan had caught a brace of rabbits, and Ember waited impatiently for the meat to finish roasting; even the smell of their blood was enough to make her hungry, but Minsc was adamant that nobody should eat the meat before it was completely cooked.

It was the largest, densest forest Ember had ever been in. Finding the bandit camp would be tedious. _Especially the way we're going about it_, Ember mused. Not that the bandits they'd killed didn't deserve it, of course, but if they were to let some of them live for questioning, it might make their task easier. If the bandits would answer, and if they would answer truthfully...

Across the camp, Imoen whooped with delight. _Progress?_ Ember looked up and saw her friend excitedly hug the red wizard. Edwin did his best to brush the girl off, but Ember could see a hint of a proud smile on his face.

Imoen ran towards Ember and plopped down next to her. "Guess what!" she said. "I've managed to scribe a spell!" She proudly opened her spellbook and showed it to Ember. Almost all the pages were as blank as when she got the book, but the first page now held a gleaming white curlicue.

"That's great, Immy!" Ember exclaimed. "Which spell is it?"

"Identify," she said.

Ember laughed. "What did Edwin say about that?"

"Oh, he says it's barely more than a cantrip, of course."

"Of course," Ember grinned. "Immy, what do you think about questioning our bandit friends about their camp?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. It could help, but..."

"They might send us on a wild goose chase."

"Exactly." Imoen said. "Unless they have no reason to! Em, let's pretend to join them!"

"Join them?" Ember burst out laughing. "You have to be joking! Nobody would think Ajantis were a bandit, and Kivan would never do it!"

"Ajantis could smudge his armour a bit and stop saying 'by Helm!' for a while, and Kivan might do it if it'd help him get at Tazok sooner," Imoen said. "If they'd let us join, they might show us the camp, and if they don't let us join, we can try to interrogate them, and if **that** doesn't work, we can just kill them like usual."

Ember smiled. "That actually does sound like a plan."

The two girls presented the plan over dinner, and their comrades reacted as expected; Edwin was indifferent, Minsc had no objections to sneaking the sword of justice into the belly of Evil before using it, and Ajantis found masquerading as brigands dishonorable but agreed that it might make their task easier.

Kivan was quiet for a long time before speaking. "Ember, you and Imoen must take the lead in this. I will not speak to those fiends."

"We can do that," Ember said.

"This will be fun!" Imoen chirped. "Ajantis, do you know how to make your armour look less shiny?"

-.-.-

Raiken was not pleased. He, a commander of the Black Talon, should not have had to take a patrol out no matter how many men were missing. He glared at the group of people that had just entered the clearing; hopefully, killing them would improve his mood.

"It's your choice which hits the ground first," Raiken bellowed, "your swords or your heads! Be smart now and you'll all live to grow wise!"

One of the two women in the group, a tall girl wearing dark grey, stepped forward. "We'll not fight you. In fact, we want to join your group," she said.

Raiken looked at the woman. She looked right back at him with a steady, unwavering gaze. Strong, she appeared, and that sword of hers was vicious. The others had potential, as well; an elf with a longbow, the largest human Raiken had ever seen, a dour looking man in stained plate armour, a brightly-dressed girl who smiled confidently and winked at him, and a... a Red Wizard of Thay? A promising group, indeed, but Raiken knew better than to let them know that. "Why, pray tell, should we take you rattle-pates?" he asked.

The woman smiled. "You're too good at your job! We can see which way the wind is blowing, and whatever you're doing, we want in. I assure you, we are worth it."

At that answer, Raiken couldn't help but chuckle. "I like you, you make me laugh! We'll take you back to the boss and see if he likes you too. Then maybe you're in. If not, you die," he said. "Follow me and try to keep up."

-.-.-

They would have spent days finding the bandit camp, Ember realized as they were led into the camp after nightfall. It was on the far northern edge of the forest, hidden between several hillocks. Dozens of men and hobgoblins were milling around, many of them in various stages of drunkenness, and the camp itself was the size of a small village.

"There are too many," Kivan whispered in Ember's ear while their guide argued with one of the camp guards. "We cannot move tonight; let us wait till dawn."

"Dawn it is," Ember whispered back. _If we get a choice about the matter, anyway_, she thought. The camp guard left and returned a short while later, followed by a hobgoblin wearing a helm with giant horns and a man dressed in an elaborate suit of platemail. The man talked briefly with their guide, shooting glances at Ember and her companions.

Finally, the man approached. "I am Taugosz "Tenhammer," leader of the Black Talon," he told Ember.

"I have heard of you," Ember said.

"Good. Then you know you are small and weak compared," Taugosz said. "Remember this. You cross Talons and I kill you. Not with hammer, with little finger. Slowly."

Ember looked straight at him. "You have my respect, but I'll not fear you. It's better placed with our quarry," she said.

Taugosz grinned at her, seemingly pleased with her response. "Good attitude. Be sure to keep it when Tazok arrive. He hires Black Talons for Iron Throne, but you take orders only from **me**. Understand? Stay away from Chill as well, they only our friends till the job is finished."

Ember nodded in agreement. Taugosz instructed their guide to show them to a tent, and left. Their guide took them to a large, empty tent on the east side of the camp.

"How cozy," Edwin remarked as he disdainfully studied the trampled dirt floor and the filthy bedrolls.

"It could be worse," Ember said. Kivan sighed heavily behind her, and she turned to look at him. Her heart fell at the sight; he was trembling and his fists were clenched so hard that the knuckles were white. "Kivan, are you all right?" she asked quietly.

"He was there," Kivan said in an hoarse whisper. "Tenhammer was with Tazok, even then."

Ember reached out and squeezed his hand. She'd known all along that this would be difficult for him, but witnessing this reaction was a different matter entirely than merely knowing that one was likely to come. "We'll make him pay in the morning," she said.


	31. Chapter 30: Bloodbath

**Chapter 30: Bloodbath**

Ember was flying. The tents of the bandit camp were barely visible far below her, and she could see the woods stretch away for miles around. All was quiet. _That will change at dawn_, she thought with a small grin. Her smugness evaporated as an invisible force pushed her down towards the ground, then into the ground. Complete and utter darkness surrounded her; she couldn't even tell whether or not she was still falling.

After what felt like an eternity, light returned to the world. It was not much; just enough for Ember to tell she was in a small, rocky cavern. A statue loomed before her.

A statue of herself.

"Such pride undeserved, great predator, when your whole being is borrowed." It was the voice she'd heard in other nightmares. This time, it seemed amused even as it accused her. "Credit where it is due, and dues where payment is demanded."

A dagger of bone flew from the blackness and struck the statue's chest, cracking it slightly. Ember's body exploded in pain; it felt as though she were being ripped to shreds.

"You were made as you are," the voice said, "and you can also be broken."

Ember fell backwards, but there was no floor to meet her. The void swallowed her again, and she kept on falling and falling and falling...

She snapped awake, gasping for air. Kivan was standing over her. "I could not wake you," the elf said, a worried tone in his voice.

"It... it was just a dream," Ember said, inhaling deeply. Her fingers grasped the bedroll; the rough, greasy texture felt wonderful.

"Then it was no normal dream."

"I've had similar ones before. There's this voice, chastising me.. and daggers of bone. Tonight it wanted to claim some due I owe it."

"Perhaps you owe it your gift of healing?"

Ember laughed quietly. "To some nightmarish creature who never is pleased with me?" She fell silent, remembering that she had dreamed of the voice before she knew she could heal. "I did discover I could heal **after** I dreamed of the voice. And I could heal twice after the second time I dreamed of it," she said thoughtfully.

"Your abilites may arise from spiting the creature. It is a powerful thing that can lock your spirit in a dream, and it is more likely that one such being has interest in you than two."

"If you're right, I should be able to heal three times now. I guess we'll find out later." Ember closed her eyes. The voice still rang in her ears; a voice with no trace of benevolence or compassion or warmth, and definitely not a voice you'd expect to bestow healing gifts. _Could that voice belong to someone... something real?_ A chill ran down her spine.

"I hope there will be no need to find out. You should get some rest; dawn is hours away," Kivan said.

"I don't think I can sleep any more." Ember said. "Why are you awake, anyway? Have you slept at all?"

The elf shook his head. "I can manage."

"Then so can I." Ember took a blanket and sat down next to the elf. Huddled together for warmth, they waited for dawn.

-.-.-

"What a remarkable sense of style," Edwin said, eyeing the largest tent in the camp. "(Yes. Decaying decor, with accompanying odours. It suits these simians.)"

"I have little doubt you appreciate it," Ajantis whispered.

"Quiet; he's being sarcastic," Imoen scolded Ajantis.

Tazok's tent was a large structure on a wooden platform. The tent itself was shaped like a dome. Corpses were nailed to the outside of the tent, their extended arms forming a circle around it. Ember was grateful that it was still too dark to see the bodies clearly.

The air inside the tent was damp and musty, but not as bad as the outside suggested. Lit torches hung from the support beams, large banners with the emblems of the Chill and the Black Talon were nailed to the walls, and a large, thronelike chair stood in the middle of a collection of chests. In the dim light, they could see two humans, a gnoll, and a hobgoblin in the back of the tent, standing around a bound man. One of the humans, a burly man dressed in heavy mail, turned and glared at Ember and her friends. "I don't care who you are, no one's to enter Tazok's tent, under penalty of death!" he bellowed.

"Oh, but we're here under Tazok's own instructions," Imoen said. "He told us to fetch his documents and bring them to him as soon as possible." Behind her, Edwin muttered quietly.

"You lie," the other man - a mage, judging by his robe - said. "I know who you are. Like Ender Sai, here, you've crossed the Iron Throne for the last -" The sentence went unfinished as Edwin cast a spell of horror on the bandits. Minsc felled the gnoll with a well-placed arrow while the two humans cowered in fear in the corner; the spell had also hit their prisoner, who was shaking and pulling at his bonds, trying to flee. The hobgoblin was the only one unaffected by the spell. He ran towards a weapons rack, but Ember fell upon him before he reached it. With one swift stroke, she cut his head off.

By the time the prisoner recovered from the spell, the two human bandits were also dead, and Imoen was busily inspecting the room for traps. "Demons!" the man shouted, then looked confusedly around.

"No demons," Ajantis told the man in a calm tone as he freed him. "It was merely a spell, one that was not intended for you."

"You're not with him, are you? No, I'd smell his rancid breath on you if you were."

"That's right, we're not with Tazok," Ember said. "Why have they held you here?"

"This is what you get for stepping on the toes of the Iron Throne, as I have," the man said. "This place is dirty to the core; The Chill think Tazok's getting orders from the Zhents, and the Black Talons don't do much to discourage that particular line of thinking, but it wasn't messing with Zhentarim that landed me here as Tazok's personal prisoner. There be others elsewhere, like that priest Mulahey sent to poison the mines of Nashkel. Set himself up as a kobold god returned..."

"He's dead," Imoen said. "We killed him and the kobolds."

"Do you know where Tazok is now?" Kivan asked.

"Tazok? He's been making regular visits to the Cloakwood, so that's where I'd start if I were you. He keeps his documents in that chest over there," he said, pointing at a large chest bound with bronze. "They might be worth taking a look at. Step on some toes, all right?"

"Evil shall hide both butts and toes in fear when Minsc finds them, for Minsc can both trample and kick, with very large boots!" Minsc proclaimed.

The man smiled and grabbed a short sword from the weapon rack. "Good. Tell them Ender Sai sent you, if you would. I find this a fight I must bow out of, alas." He bowed theatrically to Ember and Imoen and snuck out of the tent.

"What a bufflehead," Imoen chuckled. She deactivated a trap on the document chest and opened it. "Ooh, more spells! Look, Eddie, I think this is a fireball scroll!"

"Where?!" the wizard asked excitedly. Imoen handed the scroll to him with a grin; he held it tenderly to his chest as though it were a small child.

Ajantis inspected the weapons rack and pulled out a bow. "I believe this is better than yours, Minsc," he said. "Imoen, could you examine it?"

"Of course," Imoen said, "just let me finish with this chest. Ew, stinking cloud... horror... and here, some letters!" Imoen handed the two letters to Ember and went to identify the bow.

Ember opened the scrolls and quickly skimmed their contents. "They're both from someone named Davaeorn," she said. "He instructed Tazok to hire that assassin in Nashkel to kill us. The other letter asks what happened to us and asks for a shipment of iron and ore to their base in Cloakwood. It says they need to stockpile before they give an ultimatum, but it doesn't say to whom."

"To the Dukes of Baldur's Gate, I would guess," Ajantis said.

Ember nodded. "Makes sense. No explicit mention of the Iron Throne, though. So we still have no tangible proof, only hearsay."

"I suppose their Cloakwood base will be our next target, then," Ajantis said.

"Yeah. But we're not finished here yet," Ember said.

They quietly left the tent and spread out through the bandit camp. Kivan and Ember headed straight for Taugosz Tenhammer's tent. A young man was standing guard outside it; in his half-dozing state, he was an easy target, and Ember slit his throat before he could ask them their intentions. They hurried on into the tent. Taugosz was fast asleep, sprawled across a cot and snoring gently. Kivan drew his hammer and, with one swift blow, crushed Taugosz's windpipe. The man's limbs flailed wildly, and his mouth opened in a scream, but no sound emerged.

Kivan bent over Taugosz as he struggled in vain to breathe. "Do you remember me?" the elf hissed. "Do you remember my Deheriana? How you laughed as Tazok choked the life out of her with his hands?" The expression on Taugosz's face was anguished; if there were any signs of recollection in it, Ember could not tell.

"May her pain be yours. And may you rot eternally," Kivan spat. They watched as Taugosz's gaze turned glassy and his body fell limp.

As soon as they were certain Taugosz was dead, they left the tent. The bandits had been alerted by now; people were stumbling out of the tents, and at least one structure in the hobgoblin part of the camp was on fire. Kivan drew his bow and began firing arrows at his enemies.

With her sword drawn, Ember moved towards one of the largest tents. Someone came out of the doorway as she approached. She ran him through with her sword, pulled it from his body as he lay dying, and stepped over him into the tent.

-.-.-

_Not quite like I imagined it_, Imoen thought, brushing stray hair out of her eyes. As far as she could tell, the bandit camp was destroyed, along with all that were in it. The sun had barely risen, and the air was beginning to fill with buzzing flies.

There were bodies everywhere. Human, gnoll, hobgoblin; all dead. Minsc had wandered to the edge of the camp, claiming that all the blood made Boo sad even though it was evil. Imoen felt like joining them.

"This could have been done much more cleanly with just a few fireballs," Edwin said. "(I could do it with less than half a dozen strategically placed ones, I am certain.)"

Imoen squeezed the wizard's arm. Earlier, she'd watched him obliterate the Chill leader and half a dozen other hobgoblins with a single bolt of lightning and some strategic ricocheting. It'd stunk of burnt flesh, of course, but at least it'd been less messy. "I think you're right, Eddie," she said.

"My name is not Eddie," Edwin said, but he sounded much more subdued than usual.

In front of them, Kivan was gazing around the battlefield. He stood still for a moment, sighed, untied his string of scalps from his belt and, to Imoen's astonishment, threw them on a fire.

"By Helm," Ajantis whispered. At first, Imoen thought he said it because of Kivan, but then she noticed he was looking somewhere else. She turned to see what he was looking at, and froze.

Ember had emerged from behind a tent. She was plastered with blood - not her own, Imoen was fairly certain - that liberally stained her armour and clothing, especially around her hands and feet. Her hair was wet, and red droplets fell from the tips every now and then. Her sword was still unsheathed.

And she was smiling.


	32. Chapter 31: Meetings and Partings

**Chapter 31: Meetings and Partings**

An increasingly familiar figure was waiting for them at the Friendly Arm Inn. "Oh no, not him again," Ember moaned as the aged wizard approached them. Behind her, Edwin muttered a similar sentiment, and added a derogatory comment about the foolishness of wearing a hat like his indoors.

"Well met, young one!" Elminster said. "I trust that thou art well? I have heard many things about thee in the past few days, and I am most impressed."

"Are you following me?" Ember asked.

Elminster chuckled. "Only through tales and stories, I assure thee. Thou art the subject around many tables lately, and I am quite sure that the majority of rumors are more or less true. Much is as I would have done, though the methods may have differed. No doubt the clues unearthed so far have pointed thee in the same direction I would have concluded as well."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you're absolutely right, but I don't have time to chat," Ember said brusquely.

"Of course not, and I would not dream of detaining thee a second longer than necessary," the old wizard said. "I merely wished to state that I have heard much about thee. Many think thee a hero, though some would just as soon have thy head on a pike. Such is the way of things, I suppose. My only concern is whether or not the clues presented have pointed thee in a fruitful direction."

"I do not see that it is any concern of yours, old man," Edwin said. "(And is he done detaining us yet?)"

Elminster gave Edwin an annoyed look and turned to address Ember again.

"We do not need your assistance," Ember said.

The old wizard sighed. "Fear not, I was not presuming to tell thee where to go, for thou art more than capable. I will leave thee to thy travels. Luck be with thee, for thou've made some vengeful enemies; some that thou've yet to meet, and some as close as thine own heart."

Imoen sighed with relief when the old man left. "He's a real busybody, isn't he?"

"Indeed," Edwin said. "One wonders why he has not solved the entire iron crisis himself already. (He talks as if he could, after all.)"

"What really galls me is that for all his insisting he cannot 'meddle', he cannot resist hinting that he knows exactly what is going on!" Ember said.

"Locate a table. I shall arrange matters with the innkeeper," Kivan said. He walked towards the bar, followed by Ajantis. Ember frowned as she watched the two men leave. None of them had felt very talkative on the way to the inn, but only Ajantis had outright avoided her. The others had treated her almost like usual after the slaughter at the bandit camp - after she'd rinsed off the blood, anyway.

"Oh, joyous occasion!" Minsc cried. "Boo has found a table fit for seven heroes!" He led them to a large, circular table in the middle of the common room. The four of them sat down and waited, and Minsc let Boo stretch his little hamster legs by running around on the table. The inn was crowded, and there were lively discussions at most of the other tables. The topic of the day appeared to be how Amn and Baldur's Gate were accusing each other of being behind the bandit raids; at one point, a man came up to Ember and her friends and asked very loudly if they didn't agree the Zhentarim were behind the iron crisis. He was pulled away by another man, who called him a fool and apologized to Ember and Imoen for the intrusion.

Kivan and Ajantis rejoined them soon after that interlude. Ajantis was carrying a letter.

"What's that?" Imoen asked.

"I have not read it yet, miss," Ajantis said, and opened the letter. Joy and relief filled his face as he read. "It... it is a summons! The time of my Test has come!" he exclaimed. "I must to Athkatla as soon as possible."

"Congratulations!" Imoen said.

"Evil will tremble even more when Ajantis is Sir Ajantis!" Minsc exclaimed.

"I am sure many things will tremble before his righteous wrath," Edwin said. "(As to whether or not they deserve it remains to be seen.)"

Ember tried smiling at Ajantis, but he did not look in her direction. _He's relieved he has a reason to leave,_ she thought bitterly. "Congratulations," she said.

-.-.-

Her bed was soft and the sheets were cool, but Ember couldn't find rest in them. After much tossing and turning, she gave up.

"Are you awake?" she asked quietly.

"No," Imoen replied.

"I can't sleep."

There was a rustle of bedclothes, the sound of bare feet on a wooden floor, and then Imoen sat down on the edge of Ember's bed. "What's wrong?" Imoen asked.

"I keep thinking about the bandit camp," Ember said.

A moment of silence. "Me too," Imoen said. "It was pretty nasty, wasn't it? All those dead people..."

"Immy?"

"Yeah?"

"I liked it. I... I liked killing them. I don't even know how many I killed, and I don't care. I've tried telling myself to care, that they were people and all that, but it's not working. All I remember is how much I enjoyed it!"

A longer moment of silence. "You were smiling," Imoen finally said.

"What's wrong with me?" Ember asked in a slightly distorted voice; tears welling up in her eyes.

"I don't know, Em," Imoen whispered. Her hands touched Ember's shoulders, then pulled her close for a hug. Ember leaned against her friend.

"I'm scared, Immy. I keep having these horrible dreams, I can kill dozens of people and enjoy it, Ajantis is leaving because of me, and the only one who seems to know anything about what's going on is an old coot who won't tell me a single useful thing and follows me around just so he can tell me how much he can't tell me!"

"Ajantis isn't leaving because of you..."

"Didn't you see his face when he read that letter? He was relieved, and I think it was because he didn't have to come up with an excuse. He's avoided me ever since the bandit camp; there's probably a sense of evil about me now."

"Ajantis would sense evil in his breakfast if it weren't cooked properly," Imoen said. Ember chuckled softly.

"Maybe you'd feel better about it if you talk with him in the morning before he leaves?" Imoen suggested.

"**If** he'll even talk to me," Ember said.

"It's worth a try, I think. And I know you won't feel better if you don't try at all."

Ember smiled. "You're right." Ajantis had probably seen this coming, she realized, remembering how he'd questioned how she'd changed back in Beregost. _I need to tell him I understand now._

"I'm kind of glad you're upset, you know?" Imoen said. "You scared me at the bandit camp, smiling like that. I'm glad it's bugging you now; means you're aware there's a problem. And that means we can try to fix it."

"Yes," Ember said. "Does it matter if I don't know where to start?"

"Nope, not at all. And Eddie said he'll pull Elminster's hat down over his head if 'that old windbag of a Chosen', as he put it, shows up to talk nonsense again."

Ember laughed and hugged Imoen tightly. "Thank Eddie for me, will you? And thank you, for listening." She yawned. "I think I can try to sleep now."

"Any time, Em." Imoen hugged her back and quietly returned to her own bed.

-.-.-

When Ember finally fell asleep, she dreamed that her hands were still covered in wet, sticky blood. A basin of water was in front of her; she dipped her hands in it and started washing them.

No matter how hard she scrubbed, the blood would not leave her hands.

-.-.-

Ajantis was sitting in the common room, eating fresh bread, berries, and cold meat, when Ember came downstairs at sunrise the following morning. Ember smiled; the paladin was a creature of habit, and she would have been very surprised to not find him taking breakfast at this hour. He had brought all his belongings with him while he ate, no doubt in order to be able to leave as soon as he was done eating, and she noticed that he had meticulously removed every single smudge he'd put on his armour, returning it to its customary gleaming state.

"Hello, Ajantis," she called out as she walked towards him. He looked up briefly, but immediately focused on his plate again.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"If you wish, miss," Ajantis said, busily cutting a small piece of meat into shreds.

Ember sighed. "You'd have left us even if you hadn't been summoned, hadn't you?" she asked.

Ajantis put his knife down, but didn't look up from the plate. "I was... considering it. I will admit that this summons was a welcome solution to my dilemma."

"Because of me, right?"

Ajantis looked at her. "Miss Ember, at times I can barely recognize you anymore. Your path is rapidly becoming more and more different than the one I must take. It troubles me, but at the same time I no longer see that I have any way of assisting you; your path, for good or ill, is beyond me."

"This is what you were talking about in Beregost, isn't it?"

"It is."

"I just wanted you to know, before you leave, that I understand what you meant now," Ember said quietly. "And I'm going to try to do something about it."

A faint hint of a smile showed on the paladin's face. "Perhaps there is hope, then. Take care of yourself, miss Ember. Beware of following the wizard's cues."

"Perhaps he should beware of following mine instead?" Ember said with a wry grin.

"I hope it does not come to that," Ajantis said. He glanced over Ember's shoulder. "Ah, good morning, Kivan," he said.

"Good morning," Kivan said behind Ember. "You are ready to leave?"

"Yes, as soon as I am done eating."

"It is a long way to travel alone. We could accompany you to Beregost."

"I thank you, but I do not think that will be necessary. There should be fewer bandits on the roads now; I am not concerned. Your time is better spent locating the Cloakwood lair."

"Very well. I wish you luck, then."

"You have my thanks. Would the two of you care to share a last meal with me?"

Ember smiled. "I'd love to."

They ate in silence, and when they were done, Kivan and Ember followed Ajantis to the town gate. In the morning sunlight, the young paladin shone like a beacon. He shook hands with Kivan and tentatively hugged Ember, then set off down the southern road. They watched him walk off in the distance until it was no longer possible to see the sunlight glinting off his armour.


	33. Chapter 32: The Protectors of Cloakwood

**Chapter 32: The Protectors of Cloakwood**

Cloakwood turned out to be very much unlike the dismal, impenetrable place Ember had always imagined it to be. In truth, it was far wilder than any forest she had seen so far, with dense clusters of trees and several packs of dire wolves and giant spiders, but there were numerous tracks and paths for them to follow, and the woodlands around them were stunningly beautiful. It was pleasantly warm, and the air was filled with the smell of ripening berries and summer flowers. Every now and then, a squirrel would watch them from a tree. The alert little creatures were completely unafraid of people, and some of them even indulged Minsc's attempts at playing with them.

"Aw, that is so cute!" Imoen exclaimed as a squirrel snatched a sunflower seed from Minsc's outstretched palm.

"Yes, it is very cute and our sole mission in this godsforsaken cesspit is to play with squirrels and one can only hope that the great oaf will not be too distracted by their cuteness when the next wolfpack shows up!" Edwin said testily. "(I will not become a wolf snack due to his inattentiveness!)"

"There are no wolves near us, and Boo likes making friends his own size," Minsc said, patting the hamster with one finger. Boo was perched on his shoulder, and was nibbling a seed of his own.

"(As if someone with his mental capacity could be trusted to judge the presence of wolves)," Edwin grumbled.

Minsc was proven right, though, as they encountered neither wolf nor spider on the path they were following at the time. It showed distinct signs of being used by people; there where hints of cartwheel tracks, and it was wider and more linear than a path made by animal activity, Kivan told them. Despite its width, it was still completely covered by a thick canopy of branches, and only muted light reached the forest floor.

After they had followed the path for an hour or so, it ended in a clearing; a circular area had been clear cut to make room for a very large and elegant-looking log cabin. Several deer antlers and bear skulls were mounted above its doorway.

"Who would live out here?" Ember said.

As if on cue, the front door of the cabin flew open, and a silver-haired man dressed in stylish leather armour and a crimson cloak ran out of the cabin. "You there! Identify yourselves!" he bellowed, waving a bejeweled sword.

"We are adventurers," Kivan called out to the man.

"Butt-kicking for goodness!" Minsc exclaimed. Edwin rolled his eyes.

"Indeed?" the man said. He peered closely at them, then nodded and lowered his sword. "Oh, I see! I apologize for my rudeness, I mistook you for someone else. Let me introduce myself, I am Aldeth Sashenstar," he said, pronouncing the name in a manner that indicated they should immediately recognize and respect it.

"Nice to meet you, Aldeth!" Imoen said. He frowned slightly at the familiarity, but Imoen merely gave him one of her sweetest grins.

"You must understand that at the moment I'm under a terrible amount of stress," Aldeth said. "You see, my dear fellows, there is a group of uncouth savages that has declared their intention of killing my friends and I; they have already killed Elban, one of my oldest friends! I've been holed up in this cabin for several days, and have lacked the wherewithal to try and make an escape. Perhaps you would help a fellow in trouble? I would be willing to pay a **considerable** amount for your assistance."

"Where are these evil men? Minsc will smack a sense of justice into them with his sword!"

"Of course we'll help!" Imoen said.

Edwin sighed. "The reward had better be worth it," he said.

Aldeth beamed. "Good men!" he said. Ember raised an eyebrow. _I did not realize Immy and I looked like men._ Behind her, Imoen mumbled a similar statement; Ember turned and shared an exasperated look with her.

"I'm glad you had the sense of decency to help a man in my situation," the man continued. "Let me explain my predicament. You see, my friends and I come here every year to do some sport hunting. This year however, a group of woodland savages threatened us with bodily harm if we did not stop our hunting trip. Being civilized men we realized that it's well within our rights to hunt where we damn well please, so we stayed, but after a few more days of hunting the crass woodmen lost all pretense of humanity and **murdered** Elban! I'm sure that they plan to attack our cottage here, so we had best be prepared."

Ember frowned. The man's attitude galled her. "Surely it would be better if we could just escort you safely out of the woods?" she asked.

"What, and let the savages win?!" Aldeth exclaimed. "Ah, but I see the point is moot; they must have seen me leave the cottage. Here they come!"

Four men carrying staves and dressed in shades of brown and green entered the clearing around the cabin. Their leader, dressed in a robe of darkest green, had a tanned and weather-beaten face, and his hair was the colour of ripe wheat. _Druids, most likely,_ Ember guessed, _but if so, they look more wholesome than that shadow druid we met. I guess we'll see._

"Trespasser and butcher of our wood; I, Seniyad, have come to administer the punishment that you have brought down upon yourself," the leader said to Aldeth. He regarded Ember and her companions curiously. "Who are these that stand beside you? With them we have no quarrel." He turned fully towards Ember and Kivan, who were at the front of their group. "It is now to you that I speak; this man has most likely duped you into protecting his sorry hide. He has most likely not told of the druid they have slain in cold blood. I will allow you to rethink your earlier decision and leave this man to their most deserved fate."

"Do not listen to these slavering wild men, my dear fellows; they lie as befits the uncultured barbarians that they are," Aldeth said condescendingly.

Ember ignored him. "What is the nature of his punishment?" she asked Seniyad.

"He has been warned multiple times to cease his destructive ways, but the time of warnings has passed. We shall destroy his lodgings, and he must leave these woods, never to return. If he has not left by nightfall, his life will be forfeit."

"And exactly what has he done?" Ember asked.

"He and his companion have shot many animals, often merely wounding them. They would kill a deer for its antlers and leave the body to rot. Finally, they shot and killed one of our number while she was tending a bear they'd wounded. He ran away like a coward, but his friend remained and attacked us. That one has been dealt with already."

Kivan stepped forward. "Sashenstar, we will escort you out of the woods safely, if you will. In no other way will we aid you."

"What!?" the man exclaimed, his rosy cheeks turning quite red. "Have you gone mad, throwing your lot in with a band of madmen?! You treacherous savages, you will suffer for your foolishness! I will deal with **you** after I kill Seniyad!" He roared dramatically and charged at the druid leader.

Seniyad whispered something and made a gesture. The sky darkened overhead. Aldeth raised his sword and slashed at the druid in impressive yet inefficient swings, and the druid easily blocked the attacks with his staff.

The was a loud boom and a bright flash of light. An immense bolt of lighting flashed from the clouds overhead, striking Aldeth's sword and passing through his body. He fell to the ground at the druid's feet.

"He has paid for his actions," the druid said. "I congratulate you on your wise decision." He glanced at them all in turn, frowning visibly as he scrutinized the red wizard. His eyes widened for a moment as he noticed the hamster perched on Minsc's shoulder. The druid walked closer to Minsc, staring intently at Boo. Eventually, he nodded. "Your hamster is content and well cared for, and it cares deeply for you. I commend you, forest walker," he said.

Minsc beamed and patted Boo. "See, Boo? The nice druid likes you!"

"I have no quarrel with those who respect my forest," Seniyad said, "but I would know where you are headed."

"Our foes have a base in these woods. We are searching for it," Kivan said.

"Would this base involve those known as the Iron Throne?"

"Aye."

"Then I would suggest you head west, then north. They have built a fort in the deepest part of the forest, above an abandoned dwarven iron mine."

"Something tells me it's not so abandoned anymore," Imoen said.

"That is correct," Seniyad said. " Be careful in your journeys, for there are many foul beasts that have inhabited the woods of late. Another danger is a sect of shadow druids. Their order is a dangerous splinter group of the true druid order; they believe in the violent suppression of all forms of civilization, and will often attack travellers."

"We met a shadow druid in the Wood of Sharp Teeth," Ember said. "He'd poisoned the other druids there."

"Was it then you that disposed of the miscreant?"

"Yes," Ember said.

"She killed him," Imoen added.

"I thank you," the druid said. "I have heard of the destruction of the grove there, but not of how it occured. You must tell me more."

They shared what they knew about the destroyed grove while the druids cast minor healing spells on them, closing up the cuts and scratches they had gained over the course of the day. When they continued onwards, it was with Seniyad's well-wishes, and Edwin was the only one who left less than satisfied with the encounter.

"The gall of telling me what I can and cannot do with my spells! (As if I am a mere child with no sense of proper application with regards to evocation spells!)" he grumbled irritably.

"He's just being protective of his lands, Edwin," Ember said, "and I am sure that you are aware of the reputation of red wizards."

"Don't worry, Eddie, **we** know you can use fire spells properly," Imoen said. "In fact..." She stopped and reached into her pack.

"Don't call -" Edwin started to say, but he stopped in mid sentence when Imoen handed him the wand of fire. "I..."

"Use it well, Eddie," she said with a grin, and attached their wand of frost to her own belt. "If we're going to run into all those 'foul beasts' on the way, I figure we'd better be fully prepared," she told the others.

Edwin didn't answer. The look on his face as he clutched the wand said everything that needed to be said.


	34. Chapter 33: Spiders

**Chapter 33: Spiders**

The southwestern part of Cloakwood bordered on the sea. It was a rocky region, littered with rivers and waterfalls, and the trees grew in dense clusters with wide stretches of grass or pebbly sand between them. The sound of waves crashing against the jagged cliffs that made up most of the shoreline could be heard from quite a distance; when they had tried to find a better path along the shore, the noise had been almost deafening. Ember and Imoen had tried to see Candlekeep across the sea, but haze on the horizon and the glaring sunlight made it impossible to tell if their old home could possibly be seen from there.

The area was crawling with spiders.

They had not seen a single wolf since crossing the first major river in the forest, and with every hour that passed, they encountered larger and more vicious spiders than before. By the time they reached the second large Cloakwood river, even the smaller woodland creatures were scarce.

"They don't look much like spiders," Imoen said, pointing across the river. A young man - barely sixteen, by the look of him - was standing on the far bank, holding the reins of a brown horse and stroking its muzzle, apparently trying to calm the animal down.

They crossed the river at a shallow point nearby. As they approached, the horse neighed nervously, alerting its owner. There was a frightened look on the boy's face as he looked up, but it almost immediately turned to relief. "H-hello travellers, I'm Tiber," he said. "Are you adventurers?"

Ember smiled at him. "That we are," she said.

"Could... could I take up some of your time?" Tiber said plaintively. "I would be very grateful if you would just listen to... if you would just help me!" The last part was blurted out in a higher pitched voice.

"What is it that troubles you?" Kivan asked.

"It's my brother, you see," Tiber said. "He and I came here to clear the woods of the spiders that infest it. I know it sounds foolish... but my brother had found the sword 'Spider's Bane'! It was created to kill spiders! We thought we could become famous... the heroes of Cloakwood, and all that." Tiber sighed heavily. "The horse would go no further, so Chelak continued alone. It's been more than a week, and he has not returned."

"Minsc understands, for Boo has explained it to him!" Minsc said. "We will turn every rock till we find your brother!"

"You will?" Tiber cried. "Oh thank you! Thank you! I... I know it is much to ask. He's taller than me and has brown hair and wears light blue."

"We'll do our best to find him," Ember said. "don't worry."

"I'll wait here for you. Thank you so much! Please... be careful."

-.-.-

"Why anyone would want to hunt this vermin on purpose is utterly beyond me," Edwin said. "(The foolishness!)"

"Hey, he wanted to be a hero," Imoen said. She was crouching in front of an almost invisible strand of silk that crossed the open space ahead of them. "Haven't you ever done something foolhardy just so you could tell the tale later? There, it's clear," she said, and cut the strand with her dagger. The strand burst apart as if it had been under great tension, but nothing else happened; Imoen had secured it to the ground at both ends before cutting it.

"I prefer to let my greatness speak for itself," Edwin said. "(Foolishness does not make a hero; it makes a fool. She should know that!)"

Behind them, Kivan put an arrow through the head of an ettercap. "Be quiet," he said. "There are more about." As if on command, a pair of spiders materialized in their midst. One of them appeared right next to Ember; its carapace was a vivid green. Before she could react, it bit her shoulder.

"Phase spiders!" Kivan cried.

"A sword spider, too! Only heroes should have swords!" Minsc bellowed, and charged at a spider Ember could not see. She slashed clumsily at the phase spider that had bitten her. The creature vanished and reappeared several feet away. It seemed to be laughing at her. _Imagining things,_ Ember thought irritably; her entire body was burning with the spider's venom, and her vision was swimming. _Can't fight like this._ She stumbled towards a tree and leaned against it, trying to hold her sword steady as she pressed her hand to her shoulder. Fire rushed through her, but instead of healing her, it seemed to burn the poison out of her. Her thoughts and gaze clear, she was ready with her sword when the spider appeared next to her again.

On the far side of the green field, Minsc was hacking away at a large, black spider that moved faster than any she had seen so far. The others were preoccupied with the other phase spider; as Ember watched, Edwin fired a volley of magic missiles at it, only to have them course through thin air when the spider shifted three feet sideways. _Minsc is alone, though._ Ember ran towards the giant ranger.

Just as Ember reached Minsc, someone stepped out of the woods and fired an arrow at the sword spider. It struck the creature's belly without doing too much damage, but it was enough to distract the spider; it hissed and turned slightly towards its new attacker. Ember slashed at the spider, driving it a few steps away. To her horror, she saw that there were sharp edges on its legs; it had cut large gashes in Minsc's armour with them. She grabbed the ranger's arm and squeezed till she felt the fire flow into him. Minsc straightened up, roared with fury, and chopped the spider in half.

The stranger joined them in killing the remaining phase spider. When it lay quivering on the ground, the stranger bowed before them. "Hail, friends! It is refreshing to find other people in this wood," he said in a deep voice. Ember noticed that he shared Kivan's height, build and pointed ears, but the similarities ended there; there was a broad smile on the stranger's face that she'd never expect to see on Kivan, and his clothes had patches of vibrant colour.

"Who are you?" Kivan asked.

"My name is Coran," he said, looking more at Ember and Imoen than at Kivan, "and it is my deepest pleasure to meet you."

"Hello, Coran!" Minsc said cheerfully.

"We seek a boy who came to hunt spiders a week ago. Have you seen him?" Kivan asked.

Coran frowned. "No, I have seen no boys," he said, then grinned broadly. "What I **have** seen is the spiders' lair, or so I believe; a vast dome of spider silk! I could take you to it, if you wish."

"Lead the way," Kivan said.

The lair was not far away; in less than half an hour, they were all staring at the large dome made of cobwebs and tree branches. "A horrible waste of silk," Edwin said.

"How do we get inside?" Ember asked.

"I think I see a doorway over there. See the faint dark line?" Imoen said, gesturing towards a spot on the side of the dome where the silk had a slightly different look.

"Ah, your eyes are as sharp as they are lovely!" Coran said.

"Thank you, I picked them out myself," Imoen said, sharing a bemused glance with Ember. Behind them, Edwin muttered quietly.

With a combined effort, Ember, Kivan and Minsc managed to pry open the silken hatchway. A tunnel, tall enough that only Minsc had to crouch, led inside. The walls had a faint glow, which Kivan told them was caused by certain insects and fungi. They entered the tunnel and followed it past a couple turns into the main chamber of the lair.

An immensely bloated woman sat in the middle of the lair, surrounded by ettercaps and giant spiders of all kinds. "Kill the meat, my pets," she said in a gargling, hollow voice. The spiders immediately obeyed, hissing and chittering as they moved towards Ember and her friends.

"Stay back!" Edwin shouted. He raised the wand of fire and activated it, sending a ball of flame at the center of the room. It hit the woman and blossomed outwards, engulfing the spiders.

"Eddie?" Imoen said nervously, but the red wizard was preoccupied with casting a spell and didn't heed her. The wall of flames rushed towards them, only to boil away to nothing a foot or two before it reached them. The floor was smouldering in a few spots, but the dome itself was otherwise unharmed.

"You could have warned us, Edwin," Ember panted, leaning against the dome wall.

Edwin finished casting his spell; the air in the middle of the dome filled with noxious fumes, knocking out most of the injured spiders. "I did," he said with a smug grin.

Clearing out the nest was now a simple task. Ember cut down any creature that managed to hobble within their reach, while the rest of them skewered the spiders with arrows. By the time the stinking cloud had dissipated, the spiders and their mistress were all dead. An inspection of the dome revealed several small chambers; most of them held wolves and deer and other animals, all meticulously wrapped in silk, but in one of them they found the figure of a man, his large sword wrapped tightly to his side. They lifted him out of the chamber - the body was unnaturally light - and cut away enough of the strands to reveal a sunken yet boyish face and a blue tunic.

"I fear it is our lost Chelak," Kivan said.

"I think so, too," Imoen said unhappily. The boy's sword lay in her lap. "This is 'Spider's Bane'."

-.-.-

"Chelak!" Tiber cried when he saw his brother's body in Minsc's arms. "Oh, Chelak. How will I ever tell Mother? I should have stopped this stupid idea. Such a waste... such a waste. You can keep the damn sword," he told Minsc, "it's been more of a curse than anything else."

"Minsc will use it to teach a lesson of justice to the spiders we meet," Minsc said.

"I thank you for bringing my brother's body," Tiber said somberly. "I shall take him home now." He helped Minsc strap his dead brother to the horse, thanked them again, and rode away to the east.

"Poor boy," Imoen said.

"Which of them? The living or the dead?" Ember asked.

"Both, I guess," Imoen replied. "Poor boys," she sighed.

They camped that night by the riverbank. Minsc caught a couple fish - with Boo's assistance, or so he claimed - and Kivan made a small, smokeless fire to cook them on. The smell of roasting fish was tantalizing.

"Why are you in the woods with no friends?" Minsc asked as he handed Coran a morsel of fish.

"Why indeed? I wouldn't mind returning to the big city, but I have yet to collect my bounty. I'd share the reward with the lot of you, if you would help hasten the hunt. You interested in hearing more?" Coran said.

Ember froze. _Another bounty hunter?_ "Yes, tell us more," she said in as pleasant a tone as she could manage. Her friends had all stopped eating.

"Good, I'm glad you're smart enough to recognize opportunity when it comes knocking," Coran said, seemingly oblivious to the change of mood around him. "The deal is this: I've been hired out by the mayor of Beregost to hunt down a great winged dragon that's been plaguing the caravan routes as well as the few farmers that live in these woods. He's offered two thousand gold for its head. Now before you get cold feet, let me allay your fears. The only descriptions of the beast have always mentioned its deadly barbed tail. From what I know about dragons they don't have barbs on their tails - that's something unique to wyverns. So all we have to do is find this wyvern's nest and kill it. Our only worries are if it has friends over for dinner!" He looked around expectantly. "So what is your decision, yea or nay?"

Ember sighed quietly with relief. _I guess they can't __**all**__ be coming for me._ "Sounds like another 'foul beast' to me," she said, remembering the druids' warning.

"Yep," Imoen said.

"We have another task we must attend to," Kivan said, "but it is folly for one man alone to hunt wyverns, no matter how good the cause. We shall aid you."

"Minsc and Boo will teach the wyverns to not be evil bandits!" Minsc exclaimed.

"Very well then," Coran said. "We shall all travel together in the morning, and collect the heads of those soon to be sorry wyverns!"

"(Another fool.) I cannot wait," Edwin grumbled.

-.-.-

Before they all retired to their bedrolls, Ember pulled Kivan aside. "I discovered a third gift today," she told him quietly. "I can neutralize poison."

Kivan frowned. "Have there been anymore of those dreams?"

"No," Ember said, choosing not to tell him how she'd dreamed of washing her bloody hands on both nights since then. _The voice isn't in that dream, after all._

"Let me know if you have another dream, or if you discover another gift. It is still not certain that they are linked, but the likelihood is great," Kivan told her. Ember agreed to do so, and bid him goodnight.

She then spent a third night trying to wash blood off her hands.


	35. Chapter 34: Shadow Druids

**Chapter 34: Shadow Druids**

The man that blocked the path ahead of Ember and her companions was dressed in dilapidated leather and carried a roughly hewn oaken staff. A deep scowl marred his face.

"Take not another step!" he bellowed at them. "I would know your purpose in this wood. Tell me true, lest you feed the trees from below!"

"Bandits are our quarry," Kivan replied.

"Hmm... a noble goal," the man said, "and one that my fellow shadow druids will no doubt support. However, you must speak with the Archdruid; I will not let you continue until we are sure your presence will do more good than harm. Follow me."

"I don't like this," Imoen whispered as the shadow druid led them through the forest. "These guys are dangerous."

"Ah, but isn't danger the spice of life?" Coran said quietly.

"You keep your spice; I'll keep my life. (He can throw his own away for all I care, but not mine!)" Edwin muttered angrily.

The shadow druid halted at the foot of a giant tree, larger even than the dryad's tree in the Cloudpeak mountains. This one was dead, though, and liberally covered with moss.

"Wait," the druid said.

A small door, covered in mossy bark, opened up at the base of the tree's trunk. A tall man stepped out of the opening and walked towards Ember and her friends in a slow, deliberate stride. He was dressed in a ragged robe of greyish brown and carried a simple staff, but there was a commanding presence about him.

"Who dares presume to trespass upon nature's territory whilst a shadow Archdruid looks on?" the man thundered. "Who could be so hungry for death? More of Seniyad's weakling pawns, no doubt! How he can be one of the three with his pacifist attitudes is beyond logic!"

Ember stepped forward. "My apologies, but we are hunting those that would destroy nature," she said as humbly as she could manage. "We seek a bandit installation in these woods."

"You seek to destroy that which those heathens have built?" the Archdruid asked, eyeing her suspiciously. Ember nodded.

"Perhaps you warrant temporary passage, then," the Archdruid said, "though you shall still be under my scrutiny. You may find a human fortress to the northeast, inhabited by those who call themselves the Iron Throne. One of our own shall accompany you there, to be sure that your intent is true. Seek the one named Faldorn; she will guide you there. Her rage at those who would defile this land can barely be contained, and will no doubt benefit your cause. Go now; do not tarry in places you do not belong."

"As you wish," Ember said. _It can't be helped, it seems. We'll have to endure this watchdog as best we can._

"Takiyah, lead them to Faldorn," the Archdruid said to the other shadow druid.

"Yes, Archdruid," Takiyah said, bowing deeply. "Follow," he told Ember and her group, and led them to a small circle of mostly white stones. A larger stone stood in the center of the circle, and a young girl sat cross-legged in its shade. Her hair was a tangled mess of brown with the occasional leaf stuck in it, and her stained clothes appeared to have been made for someone twice her size.

"I guess that is the height of fashion in this region," Edwin muttered quietly. Ember elbowed him; it was neither the time nor the place for his opinions, valid though they might be.

"Faldorn," Takiyah said. The girl stood up. "Archdruid Amarande bids you lead these people to the lair of the Iron Throne," he told her.

Faldorn's eyes blazed as she looked at the group before her. "Those evil men have been defiling the woodlands with smoke and waste, all in a futile quest for the metal, iron. I would destroy them, and you shall join me in this task."

"We shall do what must be done," Kivan said, exchanging glances with Ember; it seemed he'd reached the same conclusion about involving the shadow druids as she herself had.

"We leave at once," Faldorn stated, and picked up her staff.

-.-.-

Coran had tried complimenting the shadow druid at the beginning of their northeasterly march, comparing her to a delicate woodland flower. In return, he had received a lecture on how said flowers were the receptacles of life. The elf had initially appeared to be encouraged by this, but she had continued about how many blossoms were armed with thorns and toxins to protect them from the greed of bumbling creatures and thus were not delicate at all, but instead were as willing to fight as any of nature's creatures. Coran had gone silent and had eventually moved away from Faldorn.

As far as Ember could tell, Faldorn hadn't been aware that her little botany lecture could be conceived as innuendo followed by a warning, and she strongly suspected that the girl hadn't even noticed the true nature of Coran's remarks towards her. It would have been hilarious if not for the fact that Coran was now complimenting Ember instead, focusing mainly on the elegance of her swordplay and whether or not she shared the thrill of adventure with him. _Oh well, I guess Immy and I can share a laugh about it tonight, at least,_ she thought as she politely deflected Coran's words.

"Izefia!" Faldorn suddenly cried. A balding, muscular man in ragged leathers stood in a glade ahead of them. He held a staff of the type that every shadow druid seemed to use, and waved it in greeting. The girl ran towards him, and the two shadow druids talked briefly.

"Is there no end to them?" Edwin complained. "(How much longer must I tolerate the way they look at me?)"

"Don't worry, Eddie," Imoen said. "As long as you don't set the forest on fire, I'm sure they won't do anything to you."

"I, the great Edwin Odesseiron, set the... I am no bumbling child! (The nerve!)"

"Boo is happy to hear that," Minsc said. "A fire would hurt his little toes, and then how would he kick the buttocks of evil?"

Edwin winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. "(The pain... right between the eyes...)"

"Be quiet," Kivan said.

Faldorn returned to them with the other shadow druid in tow. "Faldorn travels with you," Izefia said, "and so you shall live to see the glory of tomorrow's sunrise. If she can stand your presence, then so shall I."

"Nobody asked **me** \- ow!" Edwin said, and glared indignantly at Imoen, who had stepped on his foot.

"You might even prove useful," the shadow druid continued, glaring pointedly at Edwin. "There is an infidel in a cave to the northwest of here - Faldorn knows it well - that dares to capture creatures of the wood and bend them to his petty purposes. No doubt you would like to see him fed to his captives as much as I."

"Those who disregard the will of the Mother deserve no other fate," Faldorn said, grinning ferally.

"Go then, and dispose of them at your leisure," Izefia said. The two shadow druids exchanged farewells, but he had no words for Ember or the others; his attitude towards them was rather one of relief at their departure from his presence.

As it turned out, the cavern was barely a half hour's travel from where they met Izefia; they arrived to find a man in well-tailored hunting gear sitting at the entrance, stringing a bow. Oddly echoing shrieks emanated from the cave behind him.

"Move along friends, nothing to see here. Just a humble woodsman doing a little spelunking," the man said.

"Spelunking, with a bow?" Imoen asked.

The man snorted. "You just don't know the subtleties of wood and wood-related activities."

"Enough," Faldorn snarled. She shouted a few syllables, and with a gesture, she called the plants around the man into activity. Creepers and vines sprouted at an incredible rate, entangling the man's hands and feet before he could as much as raise his bow. The noise from the cavern increased.

"Wait!" the man cried. "You don't want to do this! The wyverns are for the mine, and you don't want to make those guys unhappy! Really, you don't!"

Faldorn's face was an impassive mask as she summoned a thundercloud above the man's head. A bolt of lightning shot from it, knocking the man to the ground, where more growths wrapped themselves around him.

"This isn't right," Minsc protested, earning himself a glare from the shadow druid.

"The sanctity of these woods must be preserved," Faldorn said as a second and third lighting bolt struck the man and killed him. As the cloud dissipated, she stepped over the the snarl of plants that covered the man and walked into the cave. The others slowly followed her.

It took a while for Ember's eyes to adapt to the darkness of the cave. When her eyes adjusted, she saw Faldorn working on a locked cage that held three baby wyverns. With a triumphant shout, the shadow druid managed to undo the lock, and immediately tore the door open. The largest of the baby wyverns charged at its rescuer, but before it could reach Faldorn with its talons, it fell dead to the ground with an arrow in its neck.

"Luck, be a lady," Coran said with a smirk, lowering his bow.

"How dare you!" Faldorn shrieked. "How dare you touch such a wondrous creature!" The other two wyverns moved towards her; with a quick spell and soothing gestures, she calmed the creatures. "Move," she snarled at the group. Everyone stepped out of the way, and she led the baby wyverns outside.

"Be free again! Fly!" she told the animals in an encouraging tone. The two wyverns looked adoringly at the shadow druid. Then, with several strong flaps of their still developing wings, they took to the air and set off in a westerly direction.

"So, our guide is mentally challenged. (Wonderful. Just wonderful.)" Edwin muttered as the group exited the cave. Imoen followed closely behind him, and seemed to be at a loss for words.

"She is the oddest woman I have ever met," Coran said, looking very confused as to what had just happened.

"She is a shadow druid," Kivan said.

"It looks like your adult wyverns will have to wait till after she shows us to the mine, Coran," Ember added. The elf nodded dumbly.

Faldorn had already continued down an animal track that lead northeast, and they had to hurry to catch up with her. _This is a bad idea, following her lead,_ Ember thought. _It would most likely have been easier if we'd just killed them all when we met them._ She shook her head at her own disturbing thoughts, and tried to focus her attention on the uneven path at her feet instead.


	36. Chapter 35: The Will of Nature

**Chapter 35: The Will of Nature**

Minsc was crying his eyes out.

"Those things she said to you aren't true," Imoen told him. She was too small to easily hug the giant ranger as he sat on a fallen tree, so she'd settled for sitting next to him and holding his hand. Boo sat on Minsc's shoulder, quivering nervously.

"She said I might as well eat Boo!" Minsc wailed.

"Minsc, do you know of any animals that would eat their children or their mates or their companions for breakfast?" Ember asked. She sat on the other side of Minsc, and was stroking his arm consolingly.

"Some do, when they're very very hungry," the ranger sniffled.

Ember sighed quietly. "But they don't ever do that when there's enough other food, because they care about their companions, right?" Minsc nodded slowly.

"So it's not the same at all, is it? None of us would dream of eating Boo, because we love him," Imoen said. "It's not Boo's fault that Faldorn doesn't want anyone to eat meat. She just wanted to upset you."

Minsc wiped a tear from his eye. "Faldorn is a mean little girl," he said.

"That she is," Ember said. She sat with Minsc and Imoen for a while longer, then petted Boo's head and headed back to their main campsite. Nobody was in sight except Faldorn; the shadow druid was tending the fire with a look that said she'd rather smother it. The three rabbits that Minsc had caught earlier that morning, and which had sparked the ruckus, lay neglected on the ground nearby.

"How could you say those things to Minsc?" Ember asked Faldorn, her voice edged with anger.

"He should not have killed those rabbits!" Faldorn snapped back. "They were born to live free in the woods, not to be cruelly butchered by some lumbering human!"

"You told him he should eat his hamster instead!"

"Those rabbits had as much right to live as that hamster which he has bound to himself with no regard for its natural wishes and instincts!"

"Does Boo seem unhappy to you?" Ember asked coldly.

"How can it not be, taken so far from its home?!"

"A home where he might have been cold, or sick, or eaten by wolves?"

"If nature willed it."

"So as long as a human isn't involved, it's all the will of nature? If a wolf eats a rabbit - and I am sure dozens of them are eaten every day while they're going about their free lives, with the amount of wolves we've seen - it is as it should be, but if a person eats a rabbit, it's murder?"

"People should know better! There are plenty of edible plants; berries, tubers, leaves."

"But pulling a tuber out of the ground will kill the plant, you know."

"It is different."

"How? If people should not hunt for meat, then killing plants should be wrong as well." Ember stepped closer to the fire and grabbed the three dead rabbits. She felt like reminding the shadow druid that people were a part of nature, too, but decided that arguing any further with Faldorn would pointless; from what she had seen so far, the girl was cemented in her views. It baffled Ember that the shadow druids could be so adamant about people being such a negative influence on the forest. She could have understood it if they were angry about wanton destruction, but the tantrum Faldorn had thrown over these three rabbits... _And they're 'protecting' this part of the forest,_ Ember thought grimly. _Let the spiders and dire wolves go on rampages, as long as people stay away!_ Sitting down on a log, she drew a dagger from her belt and somewhat clumsily set about the task of skinning the rabbits. Thankfully, Minsc had gutted the animals before he'd brought them to the camp.

"What are you doing?!" Faldorn exclaimed.

"I am certain you would not want their bodies to go to waste, now that they are already dead," Ember said. She finished skinning the animals, spitted them on long twigs, and placed them over the fire to roast. Faldorn glared angrily at her and stomped away into the woods. _Let her have her roots,_ Ember thought with a sigh. She continued with her breakfast preparations and tried not to dwell on how deeply the shadow druids - Faldorn in particular - bothered her.

-.-.-

By midday, the group had reassembled, eaten, and continued onward. The trek was made miserable by everybody's foul mood and the equally foul weather; rain was falling in sheets, and thunder rolled in the distant hills. Every few minutes, they heard the loud clap of nearby lightning.¨

"This is all the infernal druid's doing, I am sure," Edwin grumbled unhappily.

"Don't complain; you're the one with the protective boots," Imoen told him.

Something cried shrilly overhead, loud enough to drown out the sound of the weather.

"Get down!" Kivan hissed.

Everyone but Faldorn crouched to the ground. Moments later, they heard the swooping of giant wings overhead. A wyvern, many times larger than the infant creatures they had seen at the cave, flew over them with a cow held in its talons. It circled them once, released an ear-piercing shriek, and flew away.

"That is your wyvern," Kivan told Coran, who had turned very pale. "Let us seek cover, fast," the ranger said.

"Too late," Imoen said. Above the trees, they could see two full grown wyverns, flying straight towards them.

"Where did the other come from?" Ember asked.

"We must be near their lair," Kivan said. "Do not panic." He drew his bow, to Faldorn's protests.

The wyverns landed a few moments later, one in front of the group and one behind the group. One of the creatures lumbered towards Faldorn, who stared at it in rapt fascination. Edwin was pelting the other wyvern with magic missiles, but was unable to slow it down as it approached him and Imoen.

"Stop!" Imoen yelled, and aimed her wand of frost at the creature. A beam of frost shot out of the wand and hit the wyvern squarely between the eyes. With a sound like glass breaking, frost spread from the point of impact and covered the wyvern in seconds. Raindrops froze as they hit the creature, coating it with a glasslike layer.

Imoen was still staring at the ice statue she'd made when Edwin hit it with a flame arrow. The wyvern shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Wow," Imoen whispered.

Minsc had managed to deter the other wyvern with a few blows from his sword, but had suffered for it; the wyvern had managed to sting him at least once, and the left side of his face was swelling. Ember darted behind the ranger and quickly pressed her hand to his neck, allowing her gift to burn the poison out of him. Faldorn had also been struck; a swipe from the creature's tail had knocked her unconscious, and she lay by the root of a tree. _Just as well,_ Ember thought, _she'd probably side with them against us._ Kivan and Coran had showered the wyvern with arrows, and it was showing signs of weakness.

"Let me try this again!" Imoen yelled. She shot a blast of frost at the remaining wyvern, but the result was nowhere near as spectacular; the cold merely burned a gouge in its shoulder. "Aw," Imoen exclaimed.

"Your first hit was a very lucky one," Edwin told her. "(And a rare one. Not one in a thousand could have done that.)" For a moment, his expression almost seemed pleased, but it soon returned to his customary scowl when his acid spell failed to cause any significant harm to the wyvern.

After what felt like hours of wearing the wyvern down, Ember managed to cut a deep gash in its neck. The wound made the creature wobbled slightly, and Minsc seized the offered moment of opportunity; with a loud shout and a vicious swing of his blade, he cut its head off.

"Finally!" Imoen sighed.

"There's your head, Coran," Ember said, panting. "I suggest you pick it up before the druid comes to." The elf wasted no time in following her advice.

"You will be headed directly to Beregost, of course," Edwin said. "(One can only hope.)"

"What, and deprive you of your share of wealth? Never!" Coran said as he wrapped the wyvern head in a burlap sack. "Besides, your task is not yet done, and who better to aid you with it!"

"It'll be dangerous," Ember said.

"Great peril yields great beauty," he said with a broad grin. Ember and Imoen exchanged glances.

"You are skilled enough with the bow," Kivan said. "Your help will be appreciated." Behind him, Edwin sighed exasperatedly.

"What... what have you done?" Faldorn said weakly as she slowly got up up from the soaked forest floor.

"Saved your life, and ours," Ember said.

"They would not have touched us if you had not shown aggression!" Faldorn shouted. "I could have convinced them to leave us be!"

Ember stomped towards the shadow druid. "Could you? You seemed too preoccupied with gawking at them to do anything at all!" she growled.

"They would have respected my will! Instead, you have needlessly disrupted the balance, just as the Archdruid warned!"

"How is forcing them to act according to your will any less disrupting than our not walking into their mouths? I don't see how that fits with your ethos of letting animals do what they want!" Ember said angrily.

"You could not possibly begin to understand what our work entails!" Faldorn snapped.

"I understand enough," Ember said. "Faldorn, we can't both destroy the mine and let ourselves be eaten by the friendly denizens of these woods. And I'm tired of your complaining about our destroying nature with everything we do. We will do what we have to to get to the mine, and you will shut up about it, or by the gods, I'll feed you to the next wyvern we see. Do **you** understand?"

Faldorn opened and closed her mouth a couple of times.

"Do you understand?!"

Faldorn nodded.

"Then let us continue," Ember said.

Imoen ran up to Ember and squeezed her arm. "My hero," she whispered with a small grin as they walked onwards.

They did not travel far before they found the wyverns' lair; the odour made it very difficult to miss. "Revolting," Edwin said, and covered his mouth with one of his sleeves.

The lair was in a shallow cavern with a wide mouth. The dirt around it was torn and stained red, and several trees had been destroyed, probably to clear enough space for them to use their wings properly. A quick glance revealed a number of cows, horses, wolves, bears, and people piled up inside the cavern. All of them were dead. Some were partially eaten, some were rotting, some were merely torn apart as if they were playthings. Others were all but reduced to bones. In one end of the cave they saw a clutch of giant, leathery eggshells. They were empty, and were covered with an assortment of moulds and slimes.

Ember wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Do you call **this** a natural part of a forest?" she asked Faldorn. The shadow druid didn't answer.


	37. Chapter 36: The Cloakwood Mine

**Chapter 36: The Cloakwood Mine**

A hillock near the mine compound offered not only an excellent view of the buildings and people within the lair, but also a welcome opportunity to make some strategic decisions.

"Do you think you can handle this?" Edwin asked Imoen as the group started down the hill. "(She had better; it is a great responsibility.)"

"Don't worry, Eddie," Imoen said cheerily.

Edwin rolled his eyes at her. _When will she stop calling me that?_ he thought, but he didn't say it out loud; experience had taught him that the girl would rather be encouraged to repeat the offense if he did. The familiarity still grated at his sensibilities, though; all things considered, tutoring someone as effervescent as Imoen would have been rather unbearable if not for her considerable intellect. He had found in her a vast capacity for magical learning, she understood arcane concepts without the need for him to simplify his speech, and her choices in how and when she'd used the few spells she'd learned so far could only be characterized as resourceful. _What she did to that wyvern..._ In that moment, the circumstances of his tutoring her (all for the sake of the mission) had been insignificant compared to the pride he'd felt.

The body of one of the Iron Throne mercenaries that had guarded the hilltop was blocking his path. "(Simians,)" Edwin muttered as he lifted the hem of his robe and stepped around the obstacle.

-.-.-

As soon as Ember and her companions had dealt with the two guards on the bridge that led into the compound, a group of four people exited one of the buildings. From the hilltop, they'd watched this group wander around the lair; two of the men were heavily armoured, while the other two wore mage robes. All wore dark clothing except one of the mages, who was dressed in flamboyant robes of red, purple and gold.

"Draw your daggers and spells and lets have at 'er!" one of the armoured men shouted. "You've crossed our employers and this is as far as you're going to go, my friend. Should've known that lazy bounty hunting rabble wouldn't get the job done. Never settle for second best, I always say!"

_They were waiting for us. For me._ "You want to know what I always say? Always kill the mouthy one, that's what I always say," Ember shouted back.

The man laughed heartily. "A good saying! I will use your head for a puppet and make it say it over and over while we drink large amounts of mead! Life is pretty good, you know?" he said.

"Now," Edwin told Imoen. She nodded briskly and began chanting a spell; moments later, the four mercenaries were shrouded by a cloud of noxious fumes. A squirrel that had ventured down from a tree and into the grassy patch between the compound's buildings fell unconscious to the ground, as did one of the mages; he had set up a mirror image before Imoen's spell landed, with the result that a pile of six mages in garish robes lay in the middle of the affected area. Visibly struggling to abide the stench, the man that had spoken to them ran out of the cloud and charged at Ember. He held a a golden morningstar with both hands, and raised it high above his head in preparation to strike.

"Fear the wrath of Minsc!" Minsc bellowed, and stepped between Ember and her attacker. He blocked the morningstar easily with his great sword, and dealt the man a blow that sent him reeling backwards. Ember joined Minsc in fighting the man, while Coran and Kivan fired arrows at the other armoured man, who was in turn trying to hit them with throwing axes. Imoen and Edwin had broken the mirror images of both mages with magic missiles, and were locked in combat with the dark-robed mage. Faldorn was the only one who did not immediately join the fight. Instead, she drew a deep breath, ran into the cloud, picked up the squirrel and staggered back to safety. Wheezing and coughing, she gently deposited the squirrel under a tree.

"(What a waste of time.) Do your part!" Edwin yelled at the shadow druid. She scowled at him, raised her nose in a decidedly arrogant fashion, and finally conjured up a thundercloud over their enemies.

The fight was soon over, and the clouds dissipated shortly thereafter. A quick search of the bodies turned up a letter on the body of the man that Ember and Minsc had fought; evidently, his group had been hired by someone named Rieltar to protect the mine from an expected incursion. There was no mention of Ember, neither by name nor description.

"He went straight for me, though," Ember said.

"You **were** the one talking back at him, remember?" Imoen pointed out.

"Who cares?" Faldorn said. "The abomination of the mine is within reach!"

Ember was close enough to Kivan to hear him sigh quietly. "Then let us enter, and be done with it," the ranger said.

-.-.-

The guards at the mine entrance offered little resistance, and the group soon descended into the mine itself.

A horrifying sight met them.

Haggard men dressed in rags and shreds of clothing stumbled around in the darkness, pushing ore carts, coughing, chipping at the walls, crying. Guards were posted here and there in the tunnels, and they watched the miners' activity with drawn swords.

One of the guards approached Ember and her group. "Hey, who are you?" he asked. "Drasus didn't say there'd be more mer-" Ember cut him off by ramming her sword into his gut, and he fell gasping to the tunnel floor. The miners around them stopped in their tracks and stared.

"You're no guards," one of the miners muttered.

"That's right," Imoen said. "We're here to help!"

"To ...help?" the miner said, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

"We shall destroy this place," Faldorn said.

"What's going on here? Get back to work!" A handful of guards moved towards the miners, who had clustered together near the entrance.

"There will be no more work for evil!" Minsc cried. He fell upon the guards, accompanied by cheers from the miners.

"How many of you are there here?" Kivan asked as some of the miners hauled the dead guards away.

"Five dozen or so," someone said, then coughed violently.

"We're not miners, you see," a young voice said. "Most of us are merchants. These brigands abducted us and brought us here to work the mine for Davaeorn. He runs this place; his quarters are at the bottom of the mine."

"Davaeorn, you say?" Ember asked. The miner nodded. _We have our man,_ she thought with satisfaction.

"Are all of you working on this level?" Kivan asked.

"Aye, we work here, but we're not all up here. The prisoners are held on the level below us."

"Prisoners?" Ember asked.

"Yes, miss. Those who wouldn't obey... and Yeslick. He's a dwarf; I think he owned the mine, once."

"We'll find them!" Imoen said. "In the meantime, you should all get out of here, and then we'll get you out of the woods. We took care of the guards up there, so it's safe."

After the second round of cheering had subsided, the miners took them to a tunnel that lead to the lower levels. There were still a few guards left in the area, stationed at intervals in the tunnels, but each of them was easily dealt with.

The lower level was designed much like a fortress. The tunnels were well-lit, and the walls and floors were carved to form smooth, straight surfaces. There were guard rooms, weapon racks, and prison cells. The largest room appeared to be a mess hall; Coran had snuck close enough to discover that a dozen or so armed men and a mage were sitting there, eating and drinking. Edwin killed half of the soldiers and wounded the rest with a single fireball; the survivors were quickly disposed of with swords and arrows. A trembling cook in the side room directed them towards the remaining cells before she ran away.

"This way," Imoen said, and lead them to the cell doors. She immediately went to work with her lockpicks, and had soon opened every cell. The prisoners were in poor shape; the supported each other and limped out of the cells towards the surface, some of them pausing to take food from the adjacent kitchen.

In the smallest, darkest cell, they found the dwarf. He looked quite old, and had a white beard that hung almost to his knees. "Oh a fine sight are you, who ever you are!" he cried when he realized he was freed.

"Are you Yeslick?" Imoen asked.

"Aye, I be Yeslick," the dwarf said. "I don't know who you are, but I'm glad to see you nonetheless, and if you be against the Throne you've my best blessings. In fact, I'll do you better than blessings."

"How so?" Ember asked.

"This mine was once my clan-home, and after that my clan-tomb. We breached a riverbank over a hundred years ago and most of us died. A few survived, but we left the mine flooded as a monument to the dead."

"And now evil is in the monument! Minsc will not stand for it!" Minsc cried.

The dwarf smiled. "I got tradework at the Iron Throne smithing, but I then told my 'friend' Rieltar about my old home. They chained me up and tortured the location out of me, and now my home feeds the Iron Throne and their evil plans. I'd sooner destroy it again than have the Throne use it so! Here are directions to the lower levels, where Davaeorn is," he said, drawing a crude map on the dusty floor with a stick, "and up here is where the breach was. They plugged the hole to the river, but knowing hands can loose it again! Davaeorn has the key to the plug. Get it from him, and flood the blaggards out!"

_It'd restore his memorial tomb. And the Throne wouldn't be too happy, either._ "We'll do as you wish," Ember said. She noticed an eager, almost hungry, expression on Faldorn's face, but decided it was best to not draw attention to the shadow druid.

"I must leave; I can bear the sight of this place no longer. I'll black a few eyes on the way out, though! Clangeddin's might be with you!"

"There aren't many eyes left to blacken up there, my friend," Coran said with a grin.

"Perhaps you could help the miners get out?" Imoen suggested.

Yeslick nodded. "Aye. I'll do that. You've been good to me, friends. Bust some heads, will you?" He waved cheerily and ran down the tunnels that lead to the surface with a speed surprising in one of his obvious age.

One more level of quarters and and chambers remained before they'd reach Davaeorn's rooms. Most of the bandits in these rooms were hobgoblin troops, but they also came across an ogre mage who'd killed several prisoners for sport, a well-stocked armoury, and a female mage who almost succeeded in charming Coran before they managed to kill her. "(It would hardly have made a difference,)" Edwin observed.

Not too long after they'd passed a room that held a giant ore smelter and a forge, a doorway opened up to one side. Within, they could see an altar, covered in brown stains. Above it, on the wall, hung an odd symbol; a skull surrounded by a river of tears. It seemed to remind Ember of something unpleasant, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

"It is the symbol of Bhaal," Edwin said. "(Certainly even these barbarians must have heard of the dead god of Murder.)"

"Boo says it should not be here in Yeslick's clan-tomb!" Minsc cried. With a mighty roar, he slashed at the symbol. It broke into a pile of pottery shards.

"I think Boo was right," Imoen said, sighing with relief. "The room feels nicer already."

"A desecration has been destroyed, and now we must complete the purging and cleanse the wound! Come!" Faldorn said, and headed out of the room.

Ember sighed. "Let's go. I don't trust her out of our sight."

"Nor do I," Kivan said.

They followed the shadow druid out of the chamber and down the corridor towards a winding staircase which would take them to Davaeorn's quarters.


	38. Chapter 37: Flood

**Chapter 37: Flood**

Davaeorn's chambers were, at a glance, not as guarded as the upper levels. Only one man stood guard in the first room Ember and her companions entered, and he was easily dealt with. A small room to their right turned out to be nothing but the guard's quarters; the only other path was a narrow corridor which led straight ahead.

"Onwards to adventure!" Coran said. He drew his sword and started to head down the corridor.

"Wait!" Imoen exclaimed, and grabbed the elf's arm hard enough to stop him in his tracks. "There's something not right here." She crouched on the floor and peered at the dusty surfaces.

"Boo does not see anything," Minsc said in a low voice.

"Me neither," Imoen said. She paused and chanted a few syllables. "Oh, clever!" she exclaimed. She pulled her tools from her belt and set to work, seemingly cutting and securing thin air. She repeated the process a few feet further down the corridor, then stood up and brushed dust off her tunic and pants.

"Invisible trip wires, and it looks like they'd trigger something pretty nasty," she exclaimed with satisfaction. "It's safe now, though."

A door of polished wood blocked the end of the corridor. Imoen examined it and pronounced it untrapped and unlocked; Minsc immediately kicked it open. The room was empty. "Evil, show yourself! Your butt needs kicking!" Minsc shouted.

A man dressed in the most opulent mage robes Ember had ever seen entered the room from the right. "Why have you come?" he asked in a smooth voice. "To righteously punish me for my affront to your morality, perhaps, or maybe you merely seek to steal my riches. It matters little, for you will do neither. Before I dispose of you in some horribly gruesome manner, perhaps I should introduce myself. I am known as Davaeorn; I would ask you for your names, but I care little to become acquainted with the dead." He smiled cruelly, and vanished in a flash of light.

"Where'd he go?" Imoen exclaimed.

"Dimension door. A powerful spell, but better suited for showmanship than for defense," Edwin said. "He will be in one of the other chambers. (One wonders what else he might possess, though.)"

They hurried into the chamber and found Davaeorn in the room he'd first entered from; it appeared to be a small shrine, with a water mirror for scrying and a plaque with Bhaal's symbol. The wizard glistened with protection spells, and had also cast mirror image on himself. _That spell must be standard issue for Iron Throne wizards,_ Ember mused.

"Die!" Faldorn shouted, and summoned two dire wolves. The animals loped at the wizard, who immediately killed them with a blast of frost. Faldorn cried out in anguish as the wolves fell.

_He's powerful; Edwin couldn't do anything like that. We can't let him cast spells._ "Charge!" Ember roared, and ran at the wizard with her sword drawn. Mirror images fell left and right under an onslaught of arrows, and to her joy and relief, Ember found that her sword could penetrate the wizard's protection spells somewhat. Minsc soon joined her, and while they couldn't quite injure Davaeorn, they were able to prevent him from casting.

"How dare you!" Davaeorn yelled, ducking and dodging the blades. It was difficult to see his face through the spells, but his voice had an overtone of panic.

"Perhaps I should introduce myself," Ember said. "I'm Ember, of Candlekeep. I believe you've heard of me."

At that moment, the wizard's protective spells wore out.

-.-.-

"Let's see what we have here," Imoen said as she pried open a chest behind a writing desk. The lid was heavy; to everyone's surprise, Faldorn helped Imoen lift it. "Letters... spells... potions... and this must be the key to - **hey!**"

Before anyone could stop her, Faldorn had darted down the corridor with the key to the river plug. Her laughter echoed back to them.

"She's going to flood the mine and restore it to nature," Ember said tonelessly, not quite able to believe what she'd just seen. "With us and whoever is left of the miners still in it."

"We must stop her!" Coran cried, and started to run after her.

"This will be faster, I believe," Edwin said, pointing at the mine lift in a recess in the wall.

"Good eyes, Eddie!" Imoen said as she scrambled onto the lift.

"Yes, yes, just hurry!"

"Minsc shall lift us all!" Minsc cried, and grabbed the wooden wheel that was used to hoist the lift up and down. Powered by Minsc and Kivan's combined efforts, they were soon ascending at an almost frightening speed. The lift creaked threateningly under the strain.

"Don't break, don't break," Imoen muttered.

They were soon at the upper level of the mine. As Ember had guessed, there were still miners inside, slowly helping each other towards the exit. _Now, where did he say the plug was?_ "This way!" she cried as she recalled the directions.

The plug was easily visible, a slab of metal in the rock wall. Faldorn was not there yet.

"Hide," Kivan gasped. Everyone did their best to hide in the many nooks in the mine wall, and waited. Faldorn appeared less than a minute later, her face radiant with fervoured glee.

As Faldorn passed Ember on the way to the plug, she flung herself at the shadow druid and pinned her to the ground. "Have you lost your mind?!" she shouted.

"This... abomination... must be destroyed!" the shadow druid wheezed; Ember had grabbed her by the throat.

"Not with people still inside! You would have killed them all, and us too!"

"Nature must... have its way..."

"Guess what? I'm part of nature, too," Ember growled. "I'm the part that fights back."

The shadow druid was still clutching the plug key in her hand; Kivan walked up to them, grabbed Faldorn's wrist and hit it sharply against the mine floor until she let go with a cry of pain. The elf snatched up the key before Faldorn could reclaim it, and Ember pulled her to her feet and dragged her to the mine entrance.

"You will leave now," she told the shadow druid. "We will flood the mine, like we promised, but not until it's empty, and then we will take the miners out of the forest. If any of your ilk try to stop us, we will act against them. And if I ever see you again, I will kill you." _And I'll gladly do that right now if you give me the slightest bit of trouble._ She gave Faldorn a hard shove, and was almost disappointed when the shadow druid scurried towards the surface, whimpering softly and clutching her bruised throat.

"Phew," Imoen said. "I'm glad to see her leave."

"As long as she doesn't come back," Ember said. "We still need to search Davaeorn's rooms, too."

"Why don't I take Eddie and Minsc there, while the rest of you wait here?" Imoen suggested. "Eddie can help me find stuff, Minsc can carry, and you and Kivan and Coran can make sure she doesn't come back and try to eat the miners."

The men agreed to Imoen's labour distribution, and the two wizards and Minsc immediately headed back to the bottom of the mine. Ember, Kivan and Coran stayed near the entrance, helping the miners that passed them. Within half an hour, the miners had finished their evacuation, but there was no sign of Imoen and the other two. Ember started to get a little worried.

Finally, another half hour after the last miner stumbled towards the exit, the others returned. "You won't believe the stuff we found!" Imoen shouted happily. "Scrolls and more scrolls and books and potions and jewels and a wand and there was a wonderful robe in a closet that fits Eddie! It's even red!"

"Good for him," Ember laughed.

"Yes, it is good for him," Edwin said, sounding exceedingly pleased. "Robes of the Archmagi are rare, even in Thay, and now this one is all mine! (I will have to adjust its fit, of course, but that can wait until we reach civilization.)"

"We found letters, too," Imoen continued, "lots of them. Look at these!" She handed Ember a bunch of parchments. Some looked relatively fresh, while others were faded.

Ember rifled quickly through the letters. Judging by the dates written on the more faded ones, the Iron Throne had had a presence in the mine for several years. Most of the letters were from the same man; Yeslick's false friend Rieltar. "Did you read these already?" she asked Imoen.

Imoen nodded. "Me and Eddie skimmed most of them."

"The most damning ones are at the top of the stack," Edwin said. "Rieltar wrote to Davaeorn about both Tranzig the courier and Tazok the mercenary captain. (Why the fool kept every letter is beyond me. Not that I am complaining, of course.)"

"We have a name for Tazok's superior, too!" Imoen said. "He's named Sarevok, and he commands all their mercenaries. They brought him especially from the Iron Throne headquarters a couple years ago. He's mentioned several times."

"I see," Ember said, glancing over a letter. "And they have placed agents with other trading costers, as well. Seven Suns is mentioned in this letter."

Imoen nodded. "It just keeps getting bigger, doesn't it?"

Ember smiled. "I think it's time to bring them down a notch," she said, and reached for the key to the river plug.

-.-.-

They found Yeslick waiting outside with the miners. Tears of joy filled the old dwarf's eyes. "They have peace again," he said. "Ye have done well today."

"It needed to be done," Ember said. "Have you seen the shadow druid around?"

"Nay, not since she ran away like a frightened dog," Yeslick said.

Many of the miners were weak or ill, but none of them wanted to stay near the mine any longer than necessary. Imoen and Coran led a looting patrol through the compound, and the supplies they found were used to feed, clothe and arm the miners. Healing potions were given to those most in need, and Yeslick had revealed himself to be a priest with considerable healing skills. By afternoon, all of them were able to travel, and they managed to put several miles between themselves and the mine before nightfall.

"This is insane," Imoen said as she settled down in her bedroll beside Ember's. "It's like travelling with an army!"

"An army of worn out men, most of them without weapons," Ember replied. "I'm glad Kivan and Coran are all the nightwatch we'll need."

"Do you think the shadow druids will cause problems?"

"Gods help them if they do."

Imoen chuckled. "Goodnight, Em."

"Goodnight, Immy."

That night, Ember's dream was different. The bloody hands were still there, and she still tried in vain to wash the blood off, but this time the blood flowed freely from her hands. It started as a small trickle, but soon became a flood, much like the one in the mine. The blood engulfed her. Looking around, Ember could see currents, eddies and undertows; pockets of calm and violent whirlpools.

Still locked in the dream, Ember moved forward through the ocean of blood, refusing to let it trap her. To her astonishment, the blood parted before her will, and she walked on dry ground. She laughed sharply. _I wonder if it'll go away if I will it enough?_ No sooner had she thought that than a wave of blood rose up behind her and knocked her into a churning whirlpool. She was swallowed up in a moment.


	39. Chapter 38: Words, not Swords

**Chapter 38: Words, not Swords**

A week after flooding the mines, Ember and her companions were once again in Beregost. Most of the miners were recuperating at the Friendly Arm Inn; the Mirrorshades had made room for them in the inn and the temple, and Kivan and Ember had given each miner a share of the wealth that had been found in the mine. A dozen or so of the miners had travelled with the group to Beregost, where they had been reunited with their families.

"A good day's work," Coran said with a grin, jiggling the heavy purse he'd received as reward for the wyvern head. While he'd claimed the bounty, Kivan and Minsc had visited the smithy and collected their new suits of armour; both rangers were now dressed in what very much resembled dark green plate mail.

"The day is not done yet," Edwin said sourly.

"It's not far to Thalantyr's tower, Eddie," Imoen said. "Just wait till you see what he has; you'll be in a good mood in no time!"

"We shall see about that. (It would definitely improve my mood if that insufferable elf would leave!)"

As they entered the town square, Ember noticed two people staring at her. She stopped abruptly when they moved towards her.

"What is it?" Imoen whispered. "Assassins?"

"No," Ember replied. "Khalid and Jaheira."

"Oh."

"Um, hello," Ember said uncomfortably as the pair of half-elves stopped in front of her.

"Greetings, child," Jaheira said, her face as stern as ever. "For Gorion's sake, it is good to see you."

"It would seem our paths were destined to c-cross once more. I-I hope that you are doing well," Khalid said amiably.

"As well as can be expected, I guess," Ember said.

"We have heard much about you and your actions," Jaheira said.

"You have? How?"

"Our... investigations, at Firewine Bridge, led us to the mines in Nashkel. We arrived there to find that you and your companions had cleansed and restored the mine. And you are the toast of this town, it appears; rescuing kidnap victims from a mine, destroying mad Cyricists..." A hint of a smile appeared on Jaheira's face, softening it considerably.

"Gorion would be proud of your actions," Khalid said with a smile.

"Do you really think so?" Ember asked.

"Of course he would! You have done much good since we parted," Jaheira said.

"I... I guess we have," Ember said quietly. _Would Father be proud of all the killing, though?_

"Where are you going now?" Imoen asked.

"North, i-into the forests," Khalid said.

"We have business there," Jaheira added. She glanced quickly at Ember's companions, and furrowed her brow sightly as she scrutinized Edwin and Coran. "You and your friend would be welcome to join us, if you wished," she said, "but I see you have more than enough companions of your own, and you no doubt also have business that must be attended to."

"(How perceptive,)" Edwin muttered.

"Yes, we do," Ember said. "We will be going to Baldur's Gate."

Jaheira nodded, then looked at Kivan. "I remember you. May I have a word with you?"

"If you wish," Kivan said. The elf and the half-elf stepped aside and shared a few whispered sentences, then returned to the others.

"Perhaps we will meet again," Jaheira told Ember. "Good luck on your further ventures."

"And to you also," Ember said.

"F-fare well, child!" Khalid said.

The two half-elves departed up a northerly road, and Ember sighed with relief.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" Imoen said.

"No. I was worried she'd bite my head off when I saw them, though," Ember said.

Imoen laughed. "You're buffleheaded! You know that, right?"

"With you around to remind me, how could I forget?" Ember said with a grin. "Kivan, what did she talk with you about?"

"Later," Kivan said.

As the group continued onwards to Thalantyr's tower, Coran sidled up next to Kivan. "Who were they?" Coran asked.

"Friends of Ember's foster father. Adventurers," Kivan said.

"A fine figure like hers shouldn't be risked in an occupation such as adventuring," Coran muttered. Edwin and Kivan both rolled their eyes.

-.-.-

Ember shuffled her food around her plate without eating much of it. Glancing across the room, she saw Coran dance with a young, pretty serving girl, and Imoen dance with Edwin. Imoen had never looked more the part of a mage than she did now, dressed in a deep pink mage robe that was accented with purple and gold. She'd fallen in love with it when she'd seen it at Thalantyr's, and when Edwin had pronounced it to have more than adequate magical protections (nothing like his own new robe, of course) they had bought it on the spot. The colourful robes billowed around the mages as they moved around the floor in what Ember guessed was a traditional Thayvian dance; Ember half suspected Imoen had asked Edwin to dance only so that Coran wouldn't get the chance to ask her, but they were nonetheless a spectacular sight.

It was so strange, how things had turned out. Her father's murder and the bounty on her head were somehow entangled with what appeared to be a great conspiracy which expanded instead of unraveling whenever she pulled a thread. It would be good to get to the Gate, she mused; the local authorities could deal with the major machinations, and they'd be free to focus on searching for Tazok and for further leads on exactly who in the Iron Throne was after her.

"Why is little Ember sad?" Minsc asked, interrupting Ember's reverie. The large ranger was eating from a hearty plateful of assorted meats and vegetables; Boo sat on the table next to him on a saucer full of seeds and nuts, holding a large seed with both paws and nibbling enthusiastically.

"Sad?" Ember asked. "I'm not sad, I'm just... thoughtful."

"One could be forgiven for thinking you look sad, child," Kivan said.

"Minsc hasn't seen little Ember smile properly, with her eyes, in a long, long time," the giant said mournfully. "Not since we visited the Peaceman and the dryad. It makes Boo worried."

"Really?" Ember asked, thinking back on what had happened since then. Assassins, the mine, the bandits, the other mine, always running towards the next skirmish... most of her strange dreams. _It feels like such a long time ago..._ "I... it was peaceful there," she conceded. "I don't think I've been able to truly rest since then."

"But all heroes must rest sometimes! You need peace and happiness in your heart, and then you can trample Evil much, much better! Right, Boo?" He reached out to pat the hamster, who squeaked in response.

"You're right, Minsc," Ember said with a faint smile. "Things are troubling me. Even my dreams."

Minsc frowned. "Minsc cannot make Evil tremble in dreams," he said.

"Have you had more of **those** dreams?" Kivan asked.

Ember hesitated before answering. "I may have," she said. "After the mine, I dreamed that I drowned in blood. There was no voice, but it was as if the blood was alive and wanted to destroy me. And... do you remember when we were headed back through Cloakwood and the spiders attacked us? I could cure not one but two of the miners that were poisoned."

Kivan frowned. "Why did you not speak of this sooner?"

Ember's voice dropped to a whisper. "That's not the only time I've dreamed about blood. I've been dreaming that my hands are coated in blood, and I can't get them clean."

"How often have you dreamed of this?" Kivan asked.

"Every night since we destroyed the camp in the wood of Sharp Teeth," Ember said miserably.

Neither of the rangers spoke, and Ember eventually continued. "I am not sure I like myself anymore. Sometimes, I feel like I don't even **know** myself. It's as if I am watching myself turn into someone who thinks everything can be solved with a swing of my sword."

"Maybe little Ember is becoming a berserker warrior, just like Minsc?" Minsc said in an uncustomarily quiet voice.

Ember sighed. "Who knows?"

"We will do what we can to help you," Kivan said.

"You will?"

"Of course, child. And even if I had not already been determined to do so, your father's friend made me promise to protect you and Imoen. You have done much for me; I owe you no less."

"Minsc will also help little Ember and little Imoen! No matter where Evil hides, it will be pulled out into the light where it will meet my sword and my hamster, and together we will bring it to justice for what it does to Minsc's charges!"

Ember felt her eyes fill with tears. "Thank you both, so much," she said with a smile.

"You need a break from fighting, I believe," Kivan said. "A few days..." He trailed off and looked across the table over Ember's head; his eyebrows furrowed as if he were looking at something unpleasant.

"Ember, you look like our gloomy rangers are boring you to death," Coran said cheerily as he put a hand on Ember's shoulder. "Come, you should dance. The night is yet young!"

"No thank you, Coran, I'm tired," Ember said in mild protest.

"Oh, I insist! Just one dance, to put roses back in your lovely cheeks!"

"Oh very well, but just one," Ember said with a sigh, wondering why she hadn't followed Imoen's example. She slowly stood up and followed the grinning elf to the dance floor.

"Isn't life wonderful?" Coran asked as the dance started. "Wyverns are dead, coin fills our purses, and we'll be in the city in two days' time!"

"I've never seen the Gate," Ember said politely.

"Never? With so much to see and experience there? Have no fear, for Coran will be your guide to the city!"

"Thanks, I guess."

They danced in silence for a while. Ember was careful to maintain as much distance between them as she could, while Coran incessantly tried to move closer to her. The combination led them in a large circle around the floor over the course of the dance.

"You have the most beautiful... er... eyes," Coran said abruptly.

_What in the nine hells?_ "Really?" Ember said in a raised, innocent tone, and demurely looked down. A moment later, she completely closed her eyes, and the line of her mouth hardened. "What colour are they?" she asked, her voice as hard and flat as her expression.

"Ah, uh, blue! Bright blue!"

"No," Ember said. Her dark green eyes were full of annoyance as she looked at the elf. "Imoen's eyes are that colour," she said coolly. "And I really am too tired for this, so you'll have to excuse me." She turned away from Coran and walked off the dance floor, leaving the elf behind.


	40. Chapter 39: Arrival in Baldur's Gate

**Chapter 39: Arrival in Baldur's Gate**

If things had gone as planned, Ember and her companions would have reached Baldur's Gate in the afternoon, but a fair part of the day had been spent dealing with a quarrel between some fishermen and a young priestess of Umberlee. The fishermen had told them the priestess was souring the weather against them, and had begged their assistance. The priestess, who turned out to be little more than a child, had told them that the fishermen had killed her mother and stolen her mother's summoning bowl. When confronted, the fishermen made excuses and offered a slightly greater payment for their help.

Ember had stayed in the background, letting Kivan and Imoen do most of the talking, but at that point, she lost her patience and stepped forward. "The child said that you killed her mother and have been taking far too much from the seas. I don't like being used, Sonner. It makes me... angry," she'd growled.

All three fishermen stepped backwards. "Well that's it then! The jig's up isn't it?" one of them cried.

"That bitch priestess was taking tribute from us for years!" the one named Sonner said. "The price just kept climbing, and you can't sail without appeasing Umberlee! The cleric of Talos in Baldur's Gate said... Suffice to say, we made other arrangements for our safe passage at sea. Part of that deal was a little pay-back as well. So you see, we are all pawns within the 'friendly' rivalries of the gods. You had best tread carefully, lest you step on some pretty powerful toes."

_This guy should hear the voice in my dreams._ Her hand was itching for her sword. "Give me the bowl, Sonner," she said in a low voice. "I'll not ask so nicely a second time!"

Sonner turned pale and hurriedly pulled a rather flat bronze bowl from his pack. "I've kept it with me; we felt it was safest that way. Take it, but know that the Storm Lord knows who it is that opposes him!"

"Oh, I doubt he ever liked me in the first place," Ember said, snatching the bowl from Sonner's hand. The fishermen scurried away.

When they returned to the child priestess, they were greeted with near indifference. "You return. I trust you bear good news?" she asked, standing with arms crossed in the doorway of her small hut.

"Here is the bowl that was taken from your mother," Kivan said, handing her the item. "Perhaps now she will rest."

"Umberlee is mother now, and she is well pleased," the girl said. "She will deal with Sonner's group in time, and Talos will no doubt abandon them for their failure. If they are wise they will never set sail again, for the sea will take their worthless lives." The girl smiled briefly. "I have no reward for you, but the Sea Queen remembers those that serve her well. You will be paid... in time." With that said, she closed her door in Kivan's face.

"Perhaps you should have let me hand her the bowl," Coran said, stifling a laugh.

"We prefer to live," Edwin said.

-.-.-

It was early evening when they finally reached Baldur's Gate. Lanterns were being lit on the Gate bridge, but there was still enough light in the sky to be able to see the full scale of the city walls. Imoen gasped with surprise as the city came into sight.

"I've never seen anything like it," Ember said.

"It is even more impressive on the inside," Coran said.

"Impressive? In Thay, this would be a mere village," Edwin said huffily.

They paid a small fee to cross the bridge and were allowed entrance into the city. The path led through a giant stone gate with heavy wooden doors; beyond the gate, they found themselves amidst a clutter of houses and businesses. Even at this hour, the streets were swarming with people.

"Now what?" Imoen asked.

"We should find an inn," Kivan said, "but we should also seek out the Flaming Fist headquarters."

"I know where to find both," Coran said.

"Then take us to the Fist first," Ember said. "The sooner they know, the sooner..." Her eye caught an old man in voluminous red robes and a pointy hat, moving through the crowd towards them. "Brace yourself, Edwin. He's back," she muttered.

"Who?" Edwin asked, looking around. He saw Elminster approaching, and groaned.

"Good day to thee, young one," Elminster said as he halted in front of Ember. "What a marvelous happenstance that we should again cross paths, especially in such a grand city as this."

Ember glared at the old wizard.

"Ahh, I see by thine eyes that thou've no time for my wry banter. 'Tis true, our meeting was no accident, though I do honestly take pleasure in seeing thee again," Elminster said.

"A pleasure I do not share. Why won't you leave me be?" she asked.

The wizard frowned. "I am not some old letch that follows thee around for the good of mine eyes, upstart," he said. "If I am to be accused of anything, perhaps it is that I have been a touch too mothering."

_Mothering?!_

"I think this can be excused, however, when compared to the zeal with which thy true parentage pursues thee," he continued. "I trust thou dost suspect that thou art not 'normal.'"

A chill ran down Ember's spine; one of her worst fears had just been confirmed. "What do you know of this? Why have you come here?" she demanded.

"Oh, all citizens of the Sword Coast eventually pass through Baldur's Gate, and I knew thou wouldst as well," Elminster replied. "Forgive my continued meddling but I believe it is warranted, especially considering the pressures thou art no doubt confronting. My pestering of thee certainly pales in comparison to the influence thou've felt from others, including thine own self. Gorion raised thee as best he could, but 'tis hard indeed to overcome what is bred in the bone. Much more so in this case, I would imagine."

"So what is it you wish of me?" Ember asked through gritted teeth. _It was too much to hope that he'd actually explain, wasn't it?_

"I was about to ask this same question of thee. Thou've come quite far, and though my answers are often less than obvious, I do hope they help a little. Gorion often chided me for my obliqueness, though he was fond of a little verbal hide and seek as well."

"A little?" Ember laughed harshly. "I'm tired of these games. If you will do nothing for me, leave me to my own means!"

"Thou art determined to be confrontational, aren't thee?"

"I think very few would blame me."

"So be it," the wizard said with a small sigh. "I will leave thee to whatever fate that thou dost carve for thyself. I will extend the courtesy of a warning though; thy manner may come natural to thee, but obeying thine impulses is not always the best course. Being true to thyself is only wise if that is truly the self thou dost wish to become."

Elminster tipped his hat at Ember, then walked away. Colour slowly returned to Ember's face as she watched him leave.

"Em! Are you all right?" Imoen asked, clutching Ember's arm.

"I'm fine. Really," Ember said. "Don't worry."

"Ember, we can go directly to an inn if you wish," Kivan said.

"No. Let's go to the Fist and get that over and done with."

"What just happened here?" Coran asked.

"That," Edwin said, his face a blend of curiosity and concern, "is none of your business. Take us to the Fist headquarters, now."

The elf complied without further questions, and led them down many streets under the darkening sky; they arrived at the gate of the Flaming Fist headquarters as the first stars were appearing. After explaining their errand once at the gate and twice within, they were brought before the Fist's second in command, a large, strong-looking man who introduced himself as Commander Scar.

"Though it is not necessary for you to reveal your names, please answer me this: are you the group that was involved in the events at the Nashkel mines?" he asked.

"Yes, that was us," Kivan replied.

Scar smiled. "Well I'll have to say, you've made quite the commotion up here in Baldur's Gate," he said.

"You probably don't know half of it," Imoen said, pulling a large stack of letters out of her pack. The following hour was spent telling Scar about events in the mines and the bandit camp, all backed up with the letters they had found.

"Well, that sheds new light on things," Scar said when they were finished. "Unfortunately, while these letters are deeply incriminating, they are not sufficient proof to start a case; not against an organization as powerful as the Throne. I will expand my investigations, of course, and you may be able to assist me with that."

"How?" Ember asked.

"I can't really put my finger on a single source," Scar said, "but there have been many strange happenings going on within the city. It's been getting harder and harder for me to put trust in someone. I need outsiders to do some investigations, people with no connections to anyone within the city; would you be interested in working for me in such a capacity?"

The group exchanged glances. "We are," Kivan said.

"All right then; what I'm about to tell you must be held in the strictest confidence, do you understand? The Seven Suns leadership has been acting strangely of late, selling off valuable assets and neglecting many of their more profitable trading ventures. Considering the importance that the trading coster holds over the economy of the city, the Grand Dukes are noticeably upset," Scar said. "I tried to talk to the coster's head, Jhasso, but he rudely rebuffed me, telling me to mind my own business. I've known Jhasso for many years, and this isn't his usual behavior. I can't start up an official investigation, as there is no real reason for doing so. That's why I need you."

"The infiltrators may be behind the changes," Ember said. "What do you need us to do?"

"I want you to go to the Seven Suns compound, on the south-west side of town, and find out what's wrong. Use stealth in your investigations; I don't want this operation to cause too much fuss. Once you've found out as much as possible, report back to me. I'll pay you two thousand gold for this favor."

"We will go there tomorrow," Kivan said.

"Excellent!" Scar said. "I wish all of you the best of luck."

-.-.-

"I hope the phantom voice comes back. I'd like to hear it," Imoen said. She and Eddie had holed themselves up in a corner of the Elfsong tavern and were poring over their collection of scrolls and magical items. The landlady had told them about the strange singing that the tavern was named after; for some reason, it had not been heard for a tenday. The landlady was worried it was a bad omen.

"We'll no doubt get more done without it interrupting us," Eddie said, but she distinctly heard him mutter under his breath, "(Not that I would mind hearing it.)"

She smiled at him; to an extent, they shared an obsession with magical things, and she really enjoyed these intense study sessions with him. "So, do you think I am ready to try to scribe Fireball yet?" she asked.

Eddie raised his head from the parchments and was about to answer her, but paused and frowned as if someone'd stuffed a lemon in his mouth. "Not tonight. We are about to experience a disturbance," he said.

A hand rested on Imoen's shoulder; she turned and found herself staring at Coran's broadly grinning face. _Rats._

"Well hello there!" Coran said. "Where's Ember?"

"She has a headache and went to bed early," Imoen told him. _And that's all he needs to know._

"What a pity," Coran said. "The city has much to offer that can only be experienced at night."

"Such as what?" Eddie asked sourly. "Rats, drunks, dark streets? (Smarmy elves ogling women they have no right to as much as look at?)"

"You never know, and that's the charm of it!"

"Yes. You never know when a gnome is going to tiptoe towards you behind your back," Eddie said.

"A what?" Coran asked.

"HELLO!" a shrill voice said behind him, visibly startling the elf. Imoen hid a giggle with her hand.

"SHHH! Shh... ah... um... I mean... hello," the voice said. Coran turned around, moving enough for Imoen to see a gnome standing behind him, holding a feathered cap in his hand and squeezing it nervously. "Might I have but a moment of your... ah... time? Ooh, this IS exciting isn't it? Oh, wait...you wouldn't think so. You're probably used to it."

"Of course you can," Imoen said with a smile.

"Ah yes, well, um... you... you ah... oh how do I approach this? You are... ah... for hire? I mean... ah... I need a... job done. Get my intent? A... JOB done. Strictly hush hush, I believe you would say."

Coran's grin returned, as broad as ever. "Didn't I tell you? You never know," he said to Eddie and Imoen before focusing his attention on the gnome.


	41. Chapter 40: The Hall of Wonders

**Chapter 40: The Hall of Wonders**

"This is an inexcusable waste of our time. We should not be here," Edwin grumbled as he followed Coran and Imoen through a conveniently open window into the Hall of Wonders. "(Risking life and limb for something so trivial...)"

"Didn't you feel the least bit sorry for Brevlik?" Imoen asked.

"No."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to. Imoen and I are perfectly capable of handling it alone," Coran said. A foolish grin was smeared across the elf's face, as usual.

"(You'd like that, wouldn't you.) Someone has to make sure you don't get Imoen in trouble with your simian antics," Edwin said.

"Ah, but haven't you heard that luck is always with the romantic?" the wretched elf said, winking at Imoen.

Edwin had never missed the paladin as much as he did at that moment. Muttering a choice selection of Thayvian curses under his breath, he followed Imoen and the lout into the Hall.

The Hall itself was not too inferior, Edwin had to admit. A depressing lack of gold, but no less than Edwin expected after several months in the west, and in the faint light from the torches on the walls, he could tell there were vast expanses of marble. Giant staircases led to the main floor, where the exhibits where displayed in large cases made of glass with a more than adequate clarity and smoothness. Not a single guard was in sight.

"Where's the telethingy?" Imoen asked.

"Over there," Coran said, pointing towards a dark corner. _Flaunting his night vision for her,_ Edwin thought with disgust.

They walked slowly, with soft steps, towards the display case the elf had indicated. "Yes, here it is," Coran said smugly.

Someone squealed behind the display case.

Moments later, a wide-eyed face surrounded by a wild mop of dark auburn hair peered out from behind the lower section of the case. "Oh! Scared me you did!" the face said. "I suppose I'm caught then? Peacefully I'll go, I'm not much for fighting... Wait a minute... Holy Leapin' Lavender Lizards! You're not the guard! You're... you're burglaring just like me!"

"Burglaring is such a distasteful word," Edwin said.

"Now this IS exciting! We should... we should work together! Yeah! I could use the help... uh...I mean, we could just help each other a little bit. Whatcha say?"

"Aren't you a bit young to be burglaring?" the elf asked.

"Young! I'm not young, I'm eighteen!" the face said.

Edwin took a second glance at the slanted eyes and pointy ears of the face, estimated a height based on the face's position, and congratulated himself once again on possessing a brain vastly superior to Coran's. "You are a halfling," he stated.

"That I am!" the face said cheerfully. "Alora's the name!"

"I'm Imoen," Imoen said, "this is Eddie, and the elf there is Coran."

"Hello, Imoen, Eddie and Coran!" she said, stepping out from behind the case.

Edwin sighed. "My name is Edwin Odesseiron. It is not 'Eddie'. (Why do I even try; it's probably too late already.)"

"What are you burglaring?" Imoen asked.

"Why, this Golden Farseer, of course! There was this poor gnome, and he was so sad..."

"Brevlik, right?"

"You met him too?"

"He hired us to steal the telethingy as well!"

Alora's face scrunched up with disappointment. "Now why would he go and do that? I'm good at stealing! Did he think I couldn't do it just because I am short?"

_She is taller than the gnome, at the very least,_ Edwin mused.

"Maybe he just wanted to be sure he got it," Imoen said. "But let's do like you said and steal it together, and then we share the reward! How about it?"

"Double good and done!" the halfling said with a grin. "Oh, it'll be great fun having someone around to talk to! I don't meet many nice people in this trade. Just because we steal doesn't mean we have to be bad. Mostly I'm just curious what people have. He he, such fun!"

Imoen smiled at the shorter girl. "Let's look at this display case, shall we?"

Somehow, disaster was avoided. The worthless elf kept watch for guards, Imoen discovered and neutralized an alarm mechanism that protected the case, and the halfling proved to have considerable skill with lockpicking - all in the fingers, she'd said. Within five minutes, the object was safely in their possession, and within fifteen minutes, they had left the Hall of Wonders and closed the window behind them.

"I wonder what it does," the halfling said, juggling the telescope (at least one person was able to remember the correct term for the appliance) and peering through the lenses at each end. "Hey! Your nose looks huge in this, Eddie!" she said, and laughed.

Before he could stop his hands, he'd involuntarily reached up to cover his nose. He lowered his hand irritably. "(Foolish reflexes.) My nose is perfect in every way," he proclaimed.

"Let me see!" Imoen said. She took the telescope from Alora and looked at Edwin through it. "You're right!" she laughed.

"(Wonderful. Just wonderful.)" Imoen's penchant for foolish behaviour was running wild again, thanks to the meddling elf and his need for an adventure. The presence of the halfling, who clearly ingested too much sugar, merely aggravated her condition. "(And the evening started so well,)" Edwin muttered.

When they returned to the Elfsong, they found the gnome waiting where they'd left him; he was sitting in the corner booth where Edwin and Imoen had been studying. A small mug of ale stood in front of him, untouched.

"Hello again my rogueish compatriots!" the gnome exclaimed, apparently forgetting that the halfling had been hired separately. "Ooh, this is so exciting; it's like an adventure tale starring you and me! So, do you have it yet?"

"Here it is!" Imoen said, displaying the telescope with an artful (and impressively so) flourish.

"You are well worth your pay my friend, well worth it!" Brevlik said, eyeing the telescope greedily. "Oh, but it is a beauty... I'll be the toast of Amn, for sure, when I display it!"

"Amn?" Edwin asked.

"You plan to display it yourself?" Imoen asked.

"I... er... Oh, but who else can display such a treasure in a manner that'll most highlight its glory!" the gnome said.

"Or best line your pocket," Edwin said.

"You're tricksy!" Alora cried. "You didn't trust little Alora to get it for you, and you want to use it for money! Do you know how sad that makes me?" A tear trickled down the halfling's cheek; all in all, her face was an astounding portrayal of a deeply wounded heart, and Edwin couldn't help but feel impressed.

"The deal is off," Imoen said, clutching the telescope to her chest. "We're taking it back."

"But... but... you can't!" Brevlik pleaded. "They'll just keep it locked up, never to be touched! No gnome will know the true joy of such an artifact!"

"We can, and we will," Edwin said, positioning himself between the girl and the gnome, as the latter appeared on the verge of attacking Imoen for the prize. "(He'd have it worn out and broken in a fortnight with his display methods, I believe.)"

"You have to let me touch it! I must inspect it!"

"Just order a copy. It'll work exactly the same way," Imoen said as the four of them left the tavern and the now wailing gnome.

Restoring the telescope to its display was a simple task. Edwin stood guard (he did not trust Coran to fulfill that task properly) while the two girls repeated their work with the locks and the alarms and gently replaced the telescope. They snuck out of the Hall within five minutes; once again, the operation had gone unnoticed by any guards. The whole affair had showcased Imoen's manual skills (oh, and the halfling's, as well) and if not for the fact that it'd wasted valuable time that could have been otherwise spent on magical research (and the fact that it'd been time spent with Coran), Edwin would almost have been satisfied with the evening's activities.

"Wasn't that great fun?" Alora asked as they parted outside the Elfsong. "We do pretty good for just meeting! How about we do this again, like all the time?"

"A splendid idea!" Coran cried.

"Well, we'll have to ask the others, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind," Imoen said, smiling. "How about you meet them for breakfast tomorrow?"

"I love breakfast!" Alora said. "See you in the morning!"

-.-.-

Imoen opened the door to the bedroom as carefully and quietly as she could; she didn't want to wake Ember if she could help it. The soft, frustrated sighing she heard from within changed her mind.

She ran towards Ember's bed and reached for her friend's hands. Ember was fast asleep, but her hands were twisting and clenching so hard that the tendons stood out like cords. _Washing her hands again,_ Imoen thought with dismay. She knew this dream wasn't as bad as the ones with the mean voice in them, but she knew Ember hated it almost as much. Imoen had offered to watch her at night and wake her, but Ember had insisted that Imoen needed the sleep more; besides, she didn't always move or make sounds. Still, this was the third time Imoen had caught Ember dreaming. _At least I can wake her from this one._

"Em, wake up. It's me, Imoen," she said, holding Ember's hands with her own. "You're only dreaming. Wake up."

There was a ragged gasp, and Ember's hands relaxed; Imoen felt them tremble from the exertion. "Immy?" Ember asked hoarsely.

"Yep, it's me. It's all right," Imoen whispered and stroked her friend's sweaty forehead.

"I have to stop this, Immy," Ember mumbled, still half asleep.

"I know. You'll figure it out, just you wait and see!"

_But how?_ Imoen sighed and crawled into Ember's bed, nestling against her friend's back and wrapping an arm around her. Ember had stopped touching her hands - she did that every time Imoen woke her from that dream, as if to check that they really weren't sticky with blood - and her breathing had slowed to normal. Soon, she'd fallen asleep again.

Imoen stared into the darkness for quite a while before she too fell asleep.


	42. Chapter 41: The Seven Suns

**Chapter 41: The Seven Suns**

"What do you think of her?" Imoen asked expectantly. Alora had joined them for breakfast, giving everyone a chance to meet her and talk with her. Right now, the halfling was playing with Boo in a corner, chattering happily to the hamster as she stuck choice seeds into the tiny wooden toys Minsc had made.

"Boo likes her very much," Minsc said with a smile.

"She is very... cheerful, but there is no harm in that," Kivan said.

"I'm not sure I'm too happy about how you met her, but if she is as good as you say, I don't mind," Ember said.

"She is," Edwin said.

"So, since I'm not going to wake Coran and ask what he thinks," Imoen said, "what is the verdict?"

"She may join us," Kivan said. The others nodded in agreement.

Alora squealed with delight when they told her the news. "Friends we are, and nice ones too!" she cried! "One for all and things like that! Fun for all of us, I just KNOW it!"

Ember smiled. "The fun's going to start this very morning. We're going to investigate the Seven Suns, as soon as Coran finishes sleeping off last night."

"Alora's first big adventure, already? Holy kitty cacophony, I can't wait!" Alora exclaimed, her eyes shining with glee.

-.-.-

The Seven Suns headquarters was a somber building, made from dark brown bricks and trimmed with grey at the corners and around the numerous windows. From the outside, it looked like every curtain had been shut. The front door of polished oak opened smoothly when Kivan pushed it.

The inside of the building was cool and dimly lit. The patterned marble floor earned a small compliment from Edwin, but the brown stone pillars that supported the roof were declared tacky. There were only a few people within; nothing like the activity Ember had expected from a trading coster.

"Hello!" Imoen said to a merchant who was standing by a desk, hurriedly counting coins into bags.

"What can I do for you?" the man asked hurriedly. Ember noticed a bead of sweat on his bald head.

"We want to talk to the owner of the Seven Suns," Ember said.

The merchant frowned. "Unfortunately, I cannot grant your desire, so could you kindly leave?" he asked.

Ember shrugged. "Fine, we'll find someone else to help us," she said.

"Wait!" the man said quietly. "You should get out of here as soon as possible. Everybody I know has been acting really strange as of late. I've seen some of the other merchants change faces when they thought I wasn't looking."

"Change faces?" Ember asked incredulously.

"Yes, you heard me right, they changed faces!" the merchant said. "Some sort of shapeshifters have infiltrated the Seven Suns. Get out, while you still can!" He gathered his bags of money and scurried towards the front door.

"Doppelgangers," Kivan said.

"That's bad, right?" Imoen asked.

"Of course it is bad!" Edwin said. "Now, let us find them and deal with them."

"How do you suggest we do that?" Coran said.

"By applying my vast intellect to the problem. Observe, simian," Edwin said, and headed towards another merchant.

"So you have come to visit the Seven Suns, have you...?" the merchant said, looking up from a desk covered with papers. "Yes, I've got your face now, but not your name..."

"My name is my business. I'm not here to exchange pleasantries," Edwin said. The rest of the group slowly gathered around him.

"If you wish silence, then we ask the same of you," the merchant said, his voice as smooth as silk. "Bother us not."

"If you be merchants as you say you are," Edwin said, "would you not then be eager to sell your wares?"

"We sell to those who have the money to buy, not adventuring paupers such as yourself. Move on, and we'll forgive your impertinence," the merchant said, waving a hand irritably.

"Paupers? (Does this look like the robe of a pauper?!) No, you are no merchants," Edwin replied. "Show your true face!"

The merchant smiled then; a cold smile that grew wider, and wider, and wider. "We are indeed merchants," he said, "though not of wares you would be familiar with: We are merchants of faces and names, merchants of identities, merchants of skin even when the flesh it contains is so much rubbish. We are doppelgangers and, for a skin pittance, we sell fools their deaths." His face and clothes melted away, and a grey, sinewy figure stood before them. Across the room, another merchant stood up from his desk and ran towards them, his features being replaced by grey skin and sharp teeth as he ran. Alora shrieked with fear.

"Go for the eyes, Boo!" Minsc bellowed. He drew his sword and charged at the closest doppelganger. Ember ran for the second one, while Kivan and Coran attacked with their bows. Alora had a sling, and was using it to fling rock bullets at a doppelganger with impressive accuracy.

"There are two more over there!" Imoen shouted, pointing towards a flight of stairs. Two young girls were standing there, their faces melting and shifting as if their features were as undecided as they; they alternated between running down the stairs and backing up to the second floor.

"Do as I do," Edwin said, and flung a volley of magic missiles at one of the girls, who now looked more like a small troll. Imoen complied, sending missiles of her own at the one that looked like an elderly man. The two doppelgangers ran up the stairs, but the missiles followed after them. Moments later, shrieks of pain echoed down the marble steps.

As soon as the first two doppelgangers were dead - one of them fell when Alora's struck it in the left temple with a bullet - everyone ran upstairs. One of the doppelgangers was laying on the floor, wheezing; Ember ran her sword through it as they passed it. The other had retreated into a chamber, and was waving a spear at them. There were burn marks on its arm where it'd been struck, but the marks were already partially healed.

"They regenerate almost as rapidly as they can shift," Kivan said, taking aim at the creature. There was a soft thunk; an arrow fired by Coran hit the remaining doppelganger in the chest, and it fell to the ground, dead. Coran sighed in a very satisfied manner. Kivan lowered his bow.

They searched the entire floor, but found no other doppelgangers - or people, for that matter. There weren't even any incriminating documents to be found. "Who'd imagine that doppelgangers would have the sense to destroy proof?" Imoen said as Alora picked the lock of yet another chest that contained nothing but money and trinkets. The halfling was very wide-eyed, but had held up admirably so far.

"Position and organization and other trappings of civilization matter not to them. Only wealth," Kivan said. "If they had any papers, they probably discarded them without a second thought."

The ground floor was equally devoid of doppelgangers, people, and evidence. Many rooms on both floors were locked and dusty, and had clearly not seen use in a while. Ember guessed that the trading coster had been running with a minimal staff as the merchants left or were replaced with doppelgangers.

A single door led to the cellar, where they found storage rooms, weapon racks, and even what appeared to be a prison cell. A greyhaired man dressed in bright green stood in front of the door to the cell with a key in his hand; as they descended into the room, he turned and looked at them.

"Is he normal, do you think?" Ember whispered to Imoen.

The man's face contorted. "You shall die for this intrusion, meat!" he hissed.

"Nope," Imoen told Ember, and drew her bow. The others followed suit, and the doppelganger was cut down before he was done changing shape.

There didn't appear to be anyone else in the cellar, so Alora and Coran immediately set about the task of opening and inspecting the many locked chests in the storage rooms. Imoen picked the doppelganger's key up from the floor and tried it on the door to the prison cell; Ember and Minsc waited beside her with drawn swords, in case there was another doppelganger inside. After some jiggling of the key, the lock on the door opened with a small click.

"Stand aside, Evil, for justice is upon you!" Minsc said, shoving the cell door open. A greyhaired man wearing rags that might have once been green sat up in a corner, where he'd either been sleeping or been knocked down, by the looks of it. Ember noticed that underneath a mass of bruises and cuts, his face was remarkably similar to the one used by the doppelganger they'd just killed.

"Get away from me, shapeshifter scum," the man growled weakly. "You'll get naught from me this day, not a cry of pain nor the knowledge in my noggin."

"We're not shapeshifters," Imoen said, "we're here to save you."

"You think I believe that? I know your tricks, and that one won't work no more."

"(Typical.) Then tell me, how do we know that you are not a shapeshifter, using such a 'trick' on us?" Edwin asked.

"Think what you want," Ember said. "We've been sent by Scar to find Jhasso."

A glimmer of hope showed in the man's bloodshot eyes. "Jhasso? I am Jhasso; you know Scar? You might be telling the truth; is my torment to finally end?" he asked.

"Nobody is to be tormented while Minsc and Boo stand guard!" Minsc declared.

"If you're Jhasso, then you might have an idea of what's been going on here. What can you tell us?" Ember asked.

Jhasso drew a deep breath. "Those creatures, the shapeshifters, started infiltrating the Seven Suns some months ago," he told them. "They must have started with some of the less important members of my coster; eventually, they captured me, and their leader took my face. They've been keeping me alive in order to gain information that they need to run the coster without raising suspicion. I don't know what their purpose is, but I do know they have been running my business very badly."

"They're all dead now," Kivan said. "A human merchant left as we arrived."

"Good, good," Jhasso said. "It'll probably be weeks before we can clean out their stench, though."

Alora strolled into the cell, her hands full of jewelry. "We found many pretty shiny things, but no papers... oh, nutbunnies!" she cried as she noticed Jhasso. "I wasn't going to take your pretties, really! Just looking at them, I was!"

Jhasso chuckled. "Take the jewels, little one. Consider it my payment to you."

"Really? Oh, you're the sweetest! Thank you!" Alora said, giving Jhasso her very best smile.

"All of you will be well rewarded for rescuing me," Jhasso said. "Come, I must speak with Scar immediately. Will you take me to him?"

"Of course," Ember said.

-.-.-

Ember and her companions waited outside Scar's office while Jhasso talked with the Fist Commander. After what felt like ages, Scar emerged. "I must say I'm impressed!" he said. "You are as good as your word and obviously very deadly in your work. I'll give you the wage you deserve, triple of our original agreement." He handed Kivan a large purse of gold.

"I want to keep in touch with you," Scar continued, "I may request your help with my investigations of the Iron Throne. Provided you are willing, of course."

"We'd be glad to," Ember said with a smile. _After all, our own investigations will still be with the Throne._

The group left the Flaming Fist headquarters in good spirits; Alora was all but dancing in the street from excitement, and even Edwin seemed almost pleased. "Where now?" Kivan asked as he finished distributing the gold between them.

"Such an adventure must be celebrated, of course. I propose a grand dinner!" Coran said.

"I can honestly say that's the best idea I've ever heard from you," Ember said wryly. "Any suggestions?"

Coran grinned broadly at Ember. "At this time of day, there is no better place than the Helm and Cloak, in the inner city. Follow me!" he cried, and led them all towards the Old Gate.


	43. Chapter 42: An Offer that Can't Be Refus

**Chapter 42: An Offer that Can't Be Refused**

"That was completely unnecessary," Edwin growled at Coran as they left the Helm and Cloak Inn. After dinner, Coran had settled down at the bar, where he'd made friends with a group of adventurers led by a man named Gorpel Hind. They'd made so good friends, in fact, that when a third group, the Maulers of the Undermountain, had shown up and demanded that everyone else leave the bar, Coran had told them off in no uncertain terms. A brawl had ensued.

"And you really didn't have to tell that Gorpel Hind about Cloakwood," Ember added.

"Where was the harm in that? They enjoyed the tale, even though they didn't believe a word of it," Coran protested. He limped slightly.

"You didn't know them," Imoen pointed out. "For all you knew they could have been Iron Throne agents."

"Their doggies tried to bite me!" Alora exclaimed.

"No girl will become a doggie snack while Minsc and Boo look on!" Minsc proclaimed.

Alora giggled. "Save me you did! Did you see how they ran away when you shouted at them?" Minsc beamed at her, and nodded enthusiastically.

"All in all, there was no harm done, I'd say," Coran said. "None of us were seriously hurt, and we taught some blowhards a lesson. Invigorating, that's what it was!"

Ember slowly shook her head. "Let's just get back to the Elfsong," she said. "I'm tired."

As they passed a cluster of houses near the inn, a young man dressed in dark brown approached them. "'Ere, stop a moment. I've got a word or two ye need to hear," he said.

Ember froze. "And what words might that be?" she asked carefully.

The young man looked them over and nodded to himself. "Aye, you're a fine group o' mercenaries are you? Leastwise that's the word on the street. I've a boss who'd like to have a word wit you if you can spare the time. He don't ask fer free though, and here be 50 gold just to hear him out."

"50 gold just to listen? A fair deal, lead on," Coran said.

"A wise choice o' action," the young man said with a grin. "Now just follow me, an' I'll show ya the way ta the Guild. If yer asked the password, it's 'Fafhrd'. When yer in the guild just look fer the man named Ravenscar." He led them to a nearby house, opened the door, and gestured for them to enter.

Behind the door was a dark corridor. As soon as the door was closed behind them, a voice asked, "Password?"

"Fafhrd," Coran said.

"Enter," the voice said, and they continued onwards.

As soon as they entered the next room, which was sparsely furnished and lit by a single candle, Edwin grabbed Coran by the scruff of his neck. "What have you gotten us into now, elf?"

"That was very rash," Kivan added.

"Oh come now, what's the harm in just listening?" Coran said. He pried Edwin's hand from his collar, and opened the door to next room. This was a much larger chamber, and there were a dozen or so people within, all glowering at the newcomers. Ember reached tentatively for her weapon; around her, her companions were doing the same.

"Um, excuse me?" Alora said in her most timid voice. "Is Ravenscar at home?"

A large man, almost as large as Minsc, entered from a side chamber. His clothes were dark yet flamboyant, and three white scar lines crossed his left eye. "Welcome, my little friends!" he said, raising a hand in greeting. "Please relax, and keep your weapons at your sides. No need for hostility." He made a small hand gesture, and the others in the room backed away, vanishing into the shadows.

"I must apologize for the manner of my thieves," the man said. "I suppose a thieves' guild must keep a measure of malice about it, but it does tend to put a cloud over introductions. I am Alatos Thuibuld, though I thank you not to mention that too often; you may call me Ravenscar. You are Ember of Candlekeep, of course," he said, looking at Ember. "Be not surprised, there are very few people in Balder's Gate I cannot name. You have been here for only a few days, and have already made quite a stir."

Ember stared puzzledly at Ravenscar. "Your interest in me is flattering, though I question your intent," she said.

"Oh I don't intend to flatter, merely to assure you that you have been watched since you entered the city. As for my intent, I do have a proposition for your group to consider. A small task really, best suited to someone unknown here."

"We are not interested in your organization, or in working for it. You will have to look elsewhere," Kivan said.

"I'm afraid it is not that simple, though it never is, is it?" Ravenscar said. "You see, you have been allowed into the inner chambers of my guild, you have met me, and you have seen a number of other members. While this knowledge might not directly benefit you, if made known to the guard it would certainly harm me. I submit to you that I cannot allow this information to leave with someone... not of good standing with the guild. Your choice is somewhat limited in this manner. Choose wisely."

Ember sighed. "What exactly is it you would have us do?" she asked.

"And what would be our reward for this service?" Edwin added.

Ravenscar grinned. "It's quite the bit of intrigue actually. A local wizard by the name of Shandolar makes his home in a moored Halruaan skyship. It would appear that he has the knowledge to reproduce these flying marvels, and is currently organizing the sale of the recipe to Grand Duchess Liia Jannath. He has drawn up a set of rituals, and has procured an artifact fragment and an ancient statuette vital to the spell that keeps the ships aloft. These he has divided amongst his daughters until the deal is to proceed."

"I have been contacted by a representative of the Halruaans," he continued, "and they have no wish to see scores of flying ships manufactured in every port. You are to infiltrate the place of exchange, steal the ingredients, and return here with them. Simple enough. You would be well paid. Enough gold to give you a backache and, if I am well pleased, mayhaps a magical weapon or two. Perhaps a little more, perhaps a little less. It entirely depends upon your performance."

Coran stepped forward. "Seems a fairly straightforward bit of burglary, and well within my ability," he said, grinning every bit as broadly as Ravenscar. "I accept this challenge!"

"A wise decision!" Ravenscar said. "Informants have told me that the Duchess intends to take possession of the components in exactly a tenday, and the exchange will be hosted by Oberon at his estate. Good luck."

"(We will need it,)" Edwin muttered.

Ravenscar dismissed the group, and they headed back to the street. Ember was fuming; they had been all but forced to take this job, and it was not a task she would have accepted if she'd been allowed a choice.

"'What's the harm in just listening,' you said," she told Coran angrily. "You said you could do this; you'd better be as good as your word."

"Don't worry," Coran said, sounding a little less confident than he had inside. "I have a plan."

-.-.-

Coran was gone a very long time, and the rest were starting to get impatient when the elf finally returned.

"Well?" Edwin asked.

"They keep the items in plain sight, on a table in their study," Coran said.

"Any wards or traps?" Imoen asked.

"None that I saw," Coran said.

"I'll keep an eye out for them," Imoen said. "What about the girls?"

"They were all sitting in the study, but I should be able to distract them enough to make them leave the room," Coran said, flashing a grin. "I'll present myself as an infatuated suitor, bedazzled by their looks and wit!"

"(That shouldn't be too difficult, even for him,)" Edwin muttered.

"We have enough invisibility potions. Alora, are you ready?" Imoen asked.

"Like a bumbling bee!" Alora replied cheerfully. "This will be so much fun!"

Imoen smiled at the halfling. "Yeah, it will, won't it?" She handed a potion to Alora, who drank it and instantly vanished, and swallowed a similar potion herself.

"Follow me, ladies," Coran said, and sauntered into the Oberon estate as though he didn't have a care in the world.

Ember sighed deeply. "If anything happens to them, I'll hold him personally responsible," she said, clenching the hilt of her sword. There were too many risks in this plan. What if Alora or Imoen lost their invisibility at the wrong time? What if Coran couldn't lure the mage's daughters away? What if there was a trap Imoen couldn't handle? What if Alora dropped something?

"If we are lucky, the magelings will leave the room whilst chasing the elf out of the house," Edwin said. "(If we're extra lucky, they may even kill him.)"

"Coran is reckless," Kivan said. "Too reckless, often. If this continues, we should ask him to leave."

"I agree," Ember and Edwin said simultaneously.

"Boo thinks Coran means well," Minsc said, "but he does not approve of the elf putting little Imoen and tiny Alora in danger where Minsc cannot watch over them. It's not right!"

"We shall discuss matters with him as soon as this Halruuan affair has been dealt with," Kivan said.

They waited in silence; other than Minsc telling Boo not to fret about the girls, nobody spoke. The night air grew cooler. Soon, fog rolled in from the sea, thick enough that it became difficult to see across the street.

"(Finally!)" Edwin said quietly. A single figure sauntered towards them with Coran's unmistakable gait. Behind him, there were two odd swirls in the fog.

"Success," Coran said, grinning.

"We have all the thingies!" Alora's voice said from the fog. "They're not very pretty but oh do they look interesting!"

Ember smiled; tense muscles in her shoulders relaxed as relief filled her. _I guess I won't have to kill Coran tonight after all._ "Let's return to the Elfsong and rest. That Halruuan can stand to wait till morning."

They slowly made their way through the fog to the Elfsong tavern - Imoen and Alora became visible again when they were halfway there - and retired to their rooms. None of them stirred till late in the morning, and they didn't return to the thieves' guild until almost midday.

"Well done, if I do say so myself!" Ravenscar said as he surveyed the items, which had been placed on the table before him. "A fine bit of burglary with no unnecessary attention brought to yourself. This is Resar, my Halruaan contact," he said, indicating a tall man in orange mage robes that stood beside him. "He is well pleased, and will now see to your reward."

Resar stepped forward. "Alatos was most assuring in his description of your abilities. Right he was, and it is unfortunate I must close all loose ends. This includes potential loose tongues, and though talented, you are also expendable. I offer my sorrows, but you must die!"

Alora squealed.

The mage raised his hands and chanted rapidly.

Kivan raised his bow, and fired.

The chanting ceased. Seconds later, there was a soft thunk as Resar's body collapsed to the floor.

Behind the fallen mage, Ravenscar cleared his throat. "So you've killed the Halruuan," he said. "Well, don't take it personally that I let him attack you; he was a powerful mage, and there was little I could do to dissuade him from killing you. You have my apologies for the entire incident."

"That's not good enough," Ember said quietly. "We want our payment."

"You just killed your employer," Ravenscar pointed out. "Have his belongings, if you will. I owe you nothing."

"You are a cheater!" Alora cried, throwing herself at the thief and hitting him with her small fists as tears gushed from her eyes. Without too much roughness, Ravenscar pried her from his legs.

"I have business to attend to," the thief said. "Resar's belongings are in that chest. Take them, and leave." He stalked out of the room; Imoen and Edwin immediately searched the room for valuables, and were able to find several wands, potions and trinkets.

"Why'd you hit him like that?" Ember asked Alora as they left the guild. "I'd think him too large for you to hurt with your fists."

Alora gave Ember a mischievous look, and showed her a heavy coin purse. "Pay us, he did!" she said, giggling delightedly.


	44. Chapter 43: Namara

**Chapter 43: Namara**

"We must talk," Kivan told Coran. It was lunchtime, and they had all seated themselves in the Elfsong's main hall. Serving girls were bringing out baked apples and slabs of roast pork.

"I am sure it can wait till after we eat," Coran said, eyeing the food as well as the girls.

"No, it can't," Ember said.

"It can wait until you've spoken with me," a voice said behind Ember. She turned and looked into the angry face of a golden-haired woman. She was uncommonly beautiful, and the colours of her mage robes were bright and cheerful, but there were deep shadows under her red-rimmed eyes.

"Brielbara!" Coran exclaimed.

"I heard you'd come back to the city, coward, but I didn't really believe it," the woman said. "What brought you back? Are you looking for another girl to seduce with your deceitful promises? Perhaps you'd care to know that you have a daughter."

"A daughter?" Coran stammered. "That's... that's, uh... wonderful."

"Surprised that your fling had its consequences?" Brielbara all but shouted. "My husband was none too pleased when my daughter turned out to be a half elf! Yago went into a fury; he nearly killed me, in fact. Do you remember how powerful he is? He has cursed our child to an early death. Little Namara won't live to see her first birthday. He's gloated that he possesses the cure, but of course he'd never let me have it. Since you're her father, Coran, you're going to find Yago and YOU ARE going to get the reverse of the spell from him!"

"Her name's Namara..? ...Curse, what curse? Slow down and let me..." Coran said, looking very bewildered.

"Namara doesn't have time to slow down," Brielbara said. "Yago has been staying at the Low Lantern since he left me. It's just another despicable whorehouse, disguised as something classier, and he's rented a room somewhere on the ship. Just find his spell book and bring it to me. I should be able to reverse the curse if I have the formula."

"All right, I'll do this for my... ummmm... daughter," Coran said. He turned to the others. "So friends, are you with me or not?"

"We will help you," Kivan grumbled, looking about as happy with Coran as Ember was.

"When you're done, come meet me at my home," Brielbara told Coran. "Hopefully, you haven't forgotten where that is."

"(I would not put it past him,)" Edwin muttered.

-.-.-

The Low Lantern was an old, decrepit ship, permanently moored at the docks and turned into what was best described as an inn of ill repute. The innkeeper had been reluctant to assist them, and had threatened to turn them off the boat for bringing Alora, who was easily mistaken for a child, with them. His demeanour changed completely as soon as they gave him a handful of gold; he welcomed Alora to his establishment, and was more than willing to direct them towards Yago's quarters on the bottom deck.

To get to Yago's quarters, they had to traverse three decks of gambling tables, dancing girls, drug dealers and who knew what else; many leers and scowls greeted them as they passed by the inn's usual clientele. On the third deck, which smelled rather strongly of herbs, two girls approached them. One wore an intricate outfit of grey leather that revealed an almost indecent amount of skin, and the other was dressed in equally revealing olive green robes. Both had a glazed look in their eyes.

"You come in here for some purpose, no?" the leather clad girl asked in a lazy tone. "I'll tell you the secret. There is no purpose, only entropy. Wondrous, sensous entropy. My soul sister and I know entropy better than most, perhaps we teach you some of its pleasures, no?" she purred.

"Entropic pleasure, you say? I'd like to know more. What's your name?" Coran asked, flashing the girls his broadest grin. Ember stared at him in disbelief.

"I am Desreta. She is Vay-ya," the girl said. "We are one with void. We know life has no meaning. Let us show you entropic pleasure... It will delight you with its icy touch."

"Not many agree to go to great void," Vay-ya said with a cold smile. "They afraid. But what there be to be afraid of? Life is hollow. Better to end it soon, than endure its pain."

Coran had involuntarily taken a step backwards at the girls' words. This saved his life; moments later, Desreta brought a sword down on the spot where he'd been standing. Minsc shoved people out of the way and wrenched Desreta's sword out of her hand. Kivan followed behind the giant and restrained Vay'ya, who was attempting to cast a spell.

"Let me guess; you do not know the word 'entropy'?" Edwin asked Coran sarcastically.

"There will be no entropic pleasures this day," Kivan growled in Vay-ya's ear. "Do you understand?" The girl struggled for a few moments longer, but seemed to realize that there was no way out, and nodded miserably.

_We should kill them,_ Ember thought. She could just draw her sword and cut them down, so easily. Her hand reached for her sword.

"Naughty little girls should not try to lure foolish elves," Minsc admonished Desreta before releasing her, "or Minsc will have to teach them better manners with the flat of his sword!"

With a puzzled frown, Ember forced her hand to relax and let go of the sword hilt.

"Let's move on," Imoen said. "Let's get what we came for and leave." She was holding hands with Alora, and both looked very uncomfortable.

"Only one more deck," Coran said, visibly composing himself.

The bottommost deck held a well-stocked bar and a handful of bedrooms. Grunts and groans could be heard through the closed door of the closest of these.

"I hope that's not his room," Imoen said with disgust.

"Nay. Yago's is at the far end," Kivan said, leading the group onwards. The door to the farthest room was slightly ajar, and they could hear someone muttering inside. Ember slowly opened the door. A greyhaired man in a rumpled purple robe sat on the single bunk, staring blindly at a pile of tomes and scrolls. There was an empty wine bottle on the floor beside him, and the man himself was clearly drunk. The stench in the room was unbelievable.

"Life has been pretty lousy lately; how about you friend?" the drunken mage asked as he saw his visitors. "Let me tell you what happened to me! My bitch of a wife slept with some elvish mongrel, and even had his child. By the Nine Hells, does she ever have gall! Anyway, she's not laughing anymore; I cursed the child of that unholy union, so that it would die an early death. I hope the little brat drowns in its own vomit!" He reached for a corked wine bottle and struggled to open it.

"That's not nice at all!" Alora said loudly.

Yago turned to look at the halfling. His face erupted in anger. "How dare you bring a half elf child to mock me!" he shouted, reaching for a dagger. "What in the Nine Hells are the lot of you doing in my room?"

Ember drew her sword. "We're here for the cure to the curse you've placed on Brielbara's daughter," she said.

"And I'm not a child!" Alora added.

Yago laughed. "So the bitch hired some adventurers to get a cure for her precious daughter. She should have sent someone who was up to the task, instead of you rabble!"

Ember didn't wait for the mage to make a move. She sprang at him and pinned him to the bunk, her hand at his throat and the tip of her sword at his chest. Small ice crystals formed where it touched his tunic. "Where is the cure?" she snarled.

"T-there! It's there!" Yago shrieked, pointing at a large, dog eared tome. "I give up. I'll give you anything you want, just don't kill me!"

Imoen snatched up the tome, along with most of the loose spellscrolls, and showed it to Edwin. "He spoke the truth," Edwin said. "The makings of a powerful wilting curse are written here."

"Please, let me live," the mage whimpered.

Ember did not move. A quick push, and her blade would skewer this pathetic drunkard. It'd be so easy, and nobody would miss him. She could vividly imagine her sword cutting through him, blood freezing as it spurted forth. She felt her sword clamor for the kill, like a faint echo of the howling in her blood. Her entire body trembled with anticipation. _Kill,_ something chanted inside her, over and over.

_Enough!_

With an effort, she wrenched her sword away from Yago's chest, and threw it towards a corner. It landed with a dull clank. "Leave town, Yago," she said as she loosened her grip on his throat. "Today."

"Yes! I'll leave! Anything for you! Thank you thank you thank you..." The mage curled up in a ball on his bed, crying his eyes out.

Ember stared at her beautiful sword, abandoned in the corner. For the first time, she saw Varscona for what it really was; a tool of vengeance, forever screaming for blood. How long had she heard its whispers without noticing? _It was not alone, though. Not in me. It wasn't even the loudest whisper._ Bile rose in her throat as revulsion filled her.

"Let us leave," Kivan said to Ember, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Ember nodded weakly. "Coran, take us to Brielbara's home," she said.

-.-.-

Brielbara's home was on the opposite end of town, and by the time they'd walked there, Ember had relaxed enough that she couldn't feel her heart thump wildly in her chest anymore. The mage greeted them in the doorway; ragged coughs and baby cries could be heard from within.

"Did you get it?" she asked nervously. "Do you have his spellbook?"

"Yes! We have it right her," Imoen said, displaying the tome.

Brielbara seized it eagerly and leafed through the worn pages. "Yes! This is it!" she cried, and ran into the house. From the doorway, Ember and her companions could hear mumbling over the baby's cries, followed by a flash of brilliant light from inside. The cries ceased, and a few minutes later, Brielbara returned, holding a swaddled baby in her arms. The child looked thinner than it should, and there were dark circles under its eyes, but it had a healthy colour and was sleeping peacefully. The tips of the baby's ears were slightly pointed, like delicate leaves.

"Thank you, thank you so very much," Brielbara said, her eyes shining with tears. "I owe you everything. If there is anything I can do for you, just name it."

"We were glad to help," Imoen said with a smile.

The mage's face hardened again as she turned towards Coran. "What about you, Coran?" she asked. "Are you planning on leaving again? Not even trying to be a father..."

Coran flushed red. "I'm sorry Briel, but I just don't have the time or inclination to care for your... I mean our child."

Brielbara scowled. "I expected as much. Or as little, I should say," she said.

"You don't have the time or inclination, but you do have the money," Ember said to Coran. "I suggest you lighten your purse for your daughter."

"Aye," Kivan said. "That would be wise of you."

Coran looked at all his companions in turn. With a sigh, he unhooked his coin purse from his belt and emptied most of it into a handkerchief, which he tied up and handed to the still scowling Brielbara.

"Maybe one day you'll grow a spine, elf!" Brielbara said, and shut the door.

Coran wiped his brow and exhaled deeply. "I'm glad that's over with," he said.

Ember exchanged a pointed glance with Kivan. The ranger nodded. "Our ways must also part," Kivan said.

"What are you talking about?" Coran asked.

"(Too stupid to understand,)" Edwin muttered.

"Leave," Ember said. "Go to your friends at the thieves' guild, or maybe Gorpel Hind will take you in."

"I see," Coran said slowly. He seemed to mull things over, then flashed them a grin again. "Ah well, even the best things pass away. Your company was enjoyable while it lasted. Perhaps we shall meet again," he said, and sauntered away, whistling.

"And good riddance to you," Edwin said with a satisfied smile.

"I trust that nobody disagrees?" Kivan asked, and was met with a chorus of no's.

"Little Ember? You dropped your sword," Minsc said. "Boo told me it was yours, so Minsc took care of it!" The large ranger proudly displayed the Sharran sword.

The thought of using the sword again was unbearable. "I don't want it back, Minsc," Ember said quietly.

"Why not?" Minsc asked. "How will you fight for justice without a sword?"

Ember paused, considering how to explain the sword's true nature to Minsc. "The sword is evil, Minsc," she said. "I can feel it scream for vengeance. Nobody should use it."

"Evil?!" Minsc cried, horrified. "Minsc will beat the evil out of it, although Boo tells me a blacksmith must help!"

"Em, are you all right?" Imoen asked worriedly.

"Not really," Ember said. "I've been thinking... Do you remember what Elminster said when we last met?"

Imoen frowned. "He could have meant that your parents placed the bounty on you, you know! It doesn't have to be worse than that!"

"Maybe I could have thought so, if not for the dreams," Ember said, "but we both know better. Besides, that's not what I've been thinking about. It's what he said as he left." She drew a deep breath. "He said I should only be true to myself if I was sure it was the self I wanted to be; that I shouldn't necessarily obey my nature if it's not what I really want. Immy, do you think he could be right?"

Imoen squeezed Ember's arm. "Maybe," she said.

Ember sighed. "Let's go to the inn. I feel weary."

-.-.-

Ember excused herself from dinner, claiming a headache, and went to her and Imoen's room. Instead of laying down, she wrote a brief note for Imoen. She hoped her friend wouldn't be too worried, but she knew Imoen would never let her do this alone. And she had to be alone, for as long as it'd take.

She finished the note and placed it on Imoen's pillow. Drawing a deep breath, she steeled herself and walked quietly down the stairs, out the front door of the Elfsong, and towards the town gate at Wyrm's Crossing.


	45. Chapter 44: The Lady

**Chapter 44: The Lady**

Ember crossed the bridge that led out of Baldur's Gate at sunset. The road led south from that point, but she didn't follow it; instead, she walked straight ahead into the woods. In the fading twilight, she stumbled over roots and smacked into branches, but she doggedly continued onwards until she found a stream. She followed it for a while, feeling more than seeing her way between the trees, until she found a quiet pool at a point where the stream had curved in on itself.

There, she fell to her knees, and began to pray.

-.-.-

The trees were lit up by a soft, golden radiance. At first, Ember thought it was dawn, but then she looked up and saw that the sky was still black; stars glinted between the treetops. _Must have dozed off,_ she thought. She sat up, and saw the source of the light; a small flame stood out of the ground in front of her, at the edge of the pool. It burned brighter than any fire she'd ever seen; more golden than red, and flickered slightly. A unicorn stood beside the flame. Its dark eyes regarded Ember kindly, and its pale coat shone in the light from the flame. A golden horn rose from its forehead.

"Is this a dream?" Ember asked.

"Perhaps," the unicorn said.

"Who are you?"

"You called. I have come."

Ember stared confusedly at the unicorn. "Is this a vision?" she asked.

"Perhaps," the unicorn said. Its mouth did not move when it spoke, Ember noticed.

_Vision, dream; whatever it is, it is a response._ As much has she'd hoped for one, she hadn't dared expect one. To get one so soon, and like this, was almost overwhelming. She forced herself to calm down and focus on the unicorn; she didn't have an actual answer yet, and it might as well be no as yes.

"Tell me, child, why do you seek the Quiet One?" the unicorn asked.

"There is too much death around me, and within me," Ember said. "I must change that."

"You realize that she cannot change you. She cannot take away what you are," the unicorn said.

"I know. I must change myself, understand myself better." Ember paused. "I wish to serve life," she said quietly. "I want to offer her my service, if she'll have it."

The unicorn nodded solemnly. "I see your heart, child. You speak truly. Know that the Mother of the Waters will not come. She cannot accept your pledge."

Ember's heart fell in her chest. "Wh-why not?" she asked.

"Your nature can never mesh with hers. Her tenets would chafe you, yet she can tolerate no less. You would fail her, or you would break yourself trying to live up to her wishes; Eldath does not want a servant who will not be happy and fulfilled in his or her servitude. For you, a life in her service would ultimately only bring pain, for both of you."

"Must I follow my nature, then?" Ember asked despairingly.

"Child, you called; I came. Do you not wonder why? Do you know who I am?"

"I'm... I'm not sure," Ember said.

The unicorn looked at her, and blinked once, slowly. "I am the Lady of this forest. Of all forests. Do you know me now?"

_Mielikki._

Ember nodded, her mouth very dry all of a sudden.

"You said you wished to serve life, and I saw truth in that. You did not wish to serve Eldath, or peace. Your heart desired to serve life and nature, through her guidance."

Ember nodded again.

"She will not have you, for you would have had to completely reverse your life to be hers, and would have been no closer to balance than you are now," the unicorn - the goddess - said. "I know you understand that death is a part of life's cycle. There can be no spring without winter."

"Or predators without prey," Ember said.

"Exactly," the unicorn said. "Predators can run wild, like the dire wolves have, and must then be dealt with; when things are as they should, they are a vital part of nature's balance."

"I am running wild," Ember said. "At least, that's what it feels like."

"But you are no dire wolf, and are not to be dealt with. I cannot tell you your place in things. What I can give you is the chance to serve life, to be a servant of nature. I can accept your pledge, in the very manner that you would offer it to Eldath."

Ember blinked. "But I didn't even call for you," she said, her voice edged with hope.

"Your heart called for me, child, even though you did not know it. _I_ represent the manner in which you wish to serve, far more than the Quiet One or even the Oak Father. Thus, _I_ came. My followers know combat, but they also know when to not fight. My followers know both life and death, and know when one should yield to the other. My followers know and protect nature, but also respect the world of people." The unicorn seemed to smile. "In my service, you could learn to find balance in yourself; moderate your own nature, rather than crush it."

"You'll... you'll have me?" Ember asked.

"You must cleanse your hands first."

Ember looked down and noticed with dismay that her hands were still dripping with blood. "I've tried," she said dejectedly. "It won't wash off."

"Nonetheless, you must be cleansed," the unicorn said, looking pointedly at her.

Ember stared at her hands in her lap. _It's a test, isn't it? If I can't purge myself of this, I can't serve properly._ She was tempted to try the pond, but somehow she suspected that not even the presence of a goddess would make water wash it off any more than it had in every night that had passed since the bandit camp. She closed her eyes and recalled how that had felt; the glee she'd felt as her sword had cut down the half-asleep bandits in the tent, a glee that had nothing to do with the joy of a good, clean fight. They'd been unarmoured, defenseless. It'd been murder. In a way, it was surprising that they were not walking through her dreams, rather than her merely having their blood on her hands.

She recalled their visit to the Peaceman in his grove, and how she'd felt when she stood near the giant tree. Her heart had been drawn to this path ever since that moment, and their travels through forests and the things they'd seen in them had only strengthened that wish, but as she'd felt herself change, she'd become more and more hesitant to act upon those feelings. With the dreams of blood on her hands, she'd thought she had no choice - until Elminster had reminded her that she did. _Who would have thought he'd ever say anything of use to me,_ she mused.

Her decision had been cemented yesterday, after the skirmish with Yago. The murderous impulse in her had been stronger than ever; she'd ached to skewer the old mage, and her Sharran sword had whispered under the roar in her veins. Forcing herself to not kill had felt like ripping herself apart; she'd known she couldn't continue with things the way they were. _Still, I did manage to beat those impulses on my own yesterday, even though it was close._

She looked at her hands again. _I have to purge them, so I can start over. And purge them I will._ She reached towards the golden flame, and thrust her hands into it. The flame sparked and sputtered, and rose higher than before. The flames changed colour, becoming flickering reds and oranges with faint traces of smoke that hadn't been there before.

Ember gritted her teeth and kept her hands in the flame; the pain, near excruciating though it was, was not more than she could endure. She had to endure. She locked eyes with the unicorn, focusing on the deity rather than on the pain, and tried hard not to think about what the fire might be doing to her hands. The unicorn gazed back at her, an inscrutable look on her face.

Several minutes later, the flames turned golden again, and the traces of smoke vanished. Ember pulled her hands from the fire. They were whole, it seemed, and covered with a thick layer of ash. She immediately plunged them into the pool and sighed with relief as they cooled down. The pain faded almost immediately.

Ember held her hands in the water for a little longer than what felt necessary, then pulled them out. She stared confusedly at them; the ashes had not been washed away, but had absorbed water and become a black, viscous substance that coated her hands as thoroughly as the original blood had. She picked at the black liquid; it felt slick, and clung to her skin. She looked at the unicorn, who looked back.

_I guess I can't discard it that easily,_ she thought. _There must be some meaning to this._ She looked around, and noticed a bare patch of earth between herself and the flame. Memory stirred in her of Winthrop sprinkling ashes on his wife's flower beds, to make them grow better. _Can't hurt to try,_ she thought, and dug her hands into the bare patch. The soil was loose and slightly dry, and moved easily between her fingers. She buried her hands as far as the black coating covered them.

Something moved between her fingers. It felt like worms or tendrils of some sort, but wasn't wholly unpleasant. The surface of the bare patch broke, and tiny green stems worked their way out of the dirt. Leaves unfurled from the stems as they grew, and the tips of the stems swelled into buds. By the time the growth stopped, the bare patch had been replaced by a cluster of white flowers.

Ember carefully pulled her hands out from the soil under the flowers. Her hands were clean.

The unicorn seemed to be smiling at her. "Well done, child," she said. "Close your eyes, and I will show you what you must do."

-.-.-

When Ember woke up, it truly was dawn; the clouds were golden like the flame in her dream, and the sky had taken on pink hues. She frowned slightly; she could recall the dreamvision perfectly, but she didn't really feel different. Nothing felt different.

_Was it just a dream, after all?_

She glanced around, and her eyes fell upon a patch of glimmering white flowers that she was reasonably certain had not been there the night before.

She sat up. The faint clinking sound of her chainmail reminded her of the presence of her armour; she'd forgotten she was still wearing it. _Metal,_ she realized. _I shouldn't be wearing this much metal anymore._ She took the armour off, closed her eyes, and tried to listen to what her other senses told her.

Shortly thereafter she was laying back on the grass that surrounded the pool, laughing with relief and delight.


	46. Chapter 45: Restoring Balance

**Chapter 45: Restoring Balance**

Ember reached Baldur's Gate by late morning. She stumbled wearily into the Elfsong Inn, and found her friends gathered in the common room. From the sound of it, they were loudly discussing whether to go look for her or to wait for her there.

"Um, hi," she said. Everyone turned to look at her. Imoen leaped out of her chair.

"Don't you **ever** do that again!" Imoen exclaimed, hugging Ember so hard that she could hardly breathe. "Where did you go? Are you all right? Look at you, you look like you haven't slept in a month!"

"I'm sorry, Immy. It won't happen again, I promise," Ember said as soon as Imoen loosened her grip slightly.

"Missed you, we did!" Alora exclaimed. "But now you're back and we're all together again! Isn't that great?"

"Yes, it is," Ember said, smiling at the halfling.

"Where were you?" Kivan asked. "Your note merely said you were going to see if Elminster was right, and that you'd be back when you could. It was hardly as reassuring as you must have intended."

"Minsc wanted to help you find a proper sword of justice, but you were gone! Not even Boo knew where you were!" Minsc said.

"I would like to know what would possess you to leave the inn alone, without a weapon, and unarmoured," Edwin demanded. "(The foolish girl is lucky she wasn't killed in the streets!)"

"I wasn't unarmoured," Ember said. "And Minsc, I'd love that, but I've just sworn never to wield a sword again." She pulled her neatly folded chainmail out of her pack and placed it on the table.

"Em, what did you do?" Imoen asked slowly.

"It's a long story," Ember said.

"Sit down and tell us," Kivan said. He flagged down a serving girl and ordered some food and drink for Ember, while Minsc offered Ember his chair.

Ember sat down with a small sigh of relief, sipped some water from a proffered mug, and began telling them what she had done the previous night. She related everything she could remember of the encounter, and her companions became more and more wide-eyed as the story progressed.

"You really spoke to Khelliara?" Minsc asked, sounding awestruck, when Ember finished her story.

"Khelliara?" Ember asked.

"The Forest Lady! Minsc hears her sometimes, when the leaves rustle, but not even Boo has seen her. Was she pretty?"

_Khelliara must be her name in Rashemen,_ Ember realized. "Yes, Minsc, she was very pretty," she said.

Minsc smiled happily. "And now little Ember serves Khelliara, just like Minsc and Boo! Oh, joyous day!"

"You have chosen a good path," Kivan said. "I hope it may bring you peace."

"I hope so too," Ember said.

"I have only one question," Edwin said. "Is your newfound druidness going to make you cause problems whenever I (or Imoen) use a fire spell?"

"No more than I already would have, if you went around burning everything in sight," Ember said, and grinned at the conjuror. "Don't worry, Edwin; from what I've seen, you know what you're doing."

"But of course," Edwin said, straightening his robes.

"You're not going to be anything like those shadow druids, right?" Imoen asked.

Ember laughed. "Absolutely not!"

"Just making sure," Imoen said with a wide grin. "So, what's it like, being a druid?"

"I don't really know yet," Ember said. "After all, I don't know how to **be** a druid. The Lady told me where to go to learn, though."

"Where's that?" Imoen asked.

"A forest, obviously. (Probably some circle,)" Edwin said.

"Do you remember that grove we found in the Wood of Sharp Teeth?" Ember said. "That's where I have to go."

"Where **we** have to go, you mean," Imoen said.

"You don't have to -"

"Ember, you did just promise to not go away on your own again," Kivan said, almost smiling. "Rest assured, we will hold you to that."

-.-.-

Even though she hadn't fully noticed, Ember was exhausted from her night with no food and very little rest. She ate a light meal, which was all her stomach could handle, and went straight to her room. There, she pulled off her boots and lay down on her bed. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

When she woke up, soft grey light filtered through the curtains; it was not long until sunrise, she surmised. Feeling unusually rested, she tiptoed to the window and peered out at the cloudy morning sky. "I didn't have that dream," she said absentmindedly.

"Whuh?" Imoen muttered sleepily from under a pile of blankets in the other bed.

"Oh! Sorry, Immy, I didn't mean to wake you," Ember whispered embarrassedly. "Go back to sleep."

"No... what'd you say?" the pile mumbled.

"I didn't have that dream," Ember repeated. "I... I didn't have that dream!" she exclaimed.

The pile of blankets crawled out of the other bed and hugged her enthusiastically.

-.-.-

After a full breakfast, during which Minsc informed Ember that a mage blacksmith had taken care of Varscona and that the sword was now a lump of plain iron at the bottom of the river, the group left Baldur's Gate and headed into the Wood of Sharp Teeth, led by Kivan and Minsc.

The journey to the defiled grove took four days, but they were pleasant days. The trees around them were brimming with almost-ripe fruits and nuts, and the low bushes that covered the forest floor were full of succulent berries. They used this to their advantage, making sure that every meal break was made near a suitable berry patch. The weather was comfortably warm, the air was clear, and they weren't accosted by a single bandit. Ember studied everything they passed with new eyes; the woodlands seemed to have gained a particular hue or quality that she just hadn't known how to look for before.

"Listen to the birds," Imoen said on the fourth day. They had reached the dense heart of the forest, and were walking under canopies formed by the mingling branches of trees on either side of the rough forest paths.

"Pretty!" Alora chirped as she climbed over the trunk of a fallen tree. "What a great forest, huh? I never seen trees like these before."

"I have," Edwin said, smoothing his robes after traversing the same obstacle.

"Boo says the birds are happy now," Minsc told them. "They don't mind being near the grove anymore."

"It's not far now, right?" Ember asked.

"Not far at all!" Minsc exclaimed.

Within half an hour, they reached the clearing where they'd first encountered a shadow druid. It had looked like a scar the last time Ember saw it; now, the traces of blood and fire were all but gone, and young plants were sprouting where the ground had been torn up. It was still a scar, but it was a healing scar.

Two figures were standing beside a smallish oak near the edge of the clearing; Ember was unable to make out their faces. "Is it them?" she asked Kivan.

"Aye," Kivan replied. "It is Khalid and Jaheira."

"Do you want to talk with her alone, or do you want us to come with you?" Imoen asked.

Ember considered it for a moment. "It'll probably be easiest if I go alone," she decided.

"We will wait here," Kivan said.

Ember straightened herself up, took a deep breath, and walked across the clearing towards the two half-elves. She could now tell that they were somehow tending the oak; Jaheira was running her hands over a deep gash in the tree's main trunk. As Ember drew closer, the half-elves turned to face her.

"G-greetings, child," Khalid said amiably. "Where are your f-friends?"

"Over there, at the edge of the clearing," Ember said, gesturing in their general direction.

"What brings you here?" Jaheira asked.

Ember shuffled her feet. "I was told to find you here," she said.

"And who told you this?"

"It... it wasn't a person," Ember said hesitantly. "I pledged myself to Mielikki. She told me to find you here."

"Child, am I to understand that you have spoken with the ranger goddess?" Jaheira asked.

"Kind of. She was a unicorn in a dream. She told me to come here and ask you to teach me." Ember felt herself blush. _How many people go around talking with deities? I must sound insane!_

"To teach you what?" Jaheira asked.

"How to be a druid."

Jaheira nodded. "It is unusual, but I have heard of others entering her service in such a manner, especially this past year," she said. "I suppose there is a shortage of her druids on the Sword Coast, since she has sent you to me."

"I think it was because you knew me. Knew of me, anyway," Ember said. Jaheira smiled wryly.

"I dreamed of you three nights ago," Jaheira said. "Silvanus told me you would come here, seeking my assistance, but the dream was not clear as to why. I understand better, now that you have come."

"So, will you?" Ember asked. "Show me how to do this, I mean?"

"As long as you do not expect to gain a lifetime of experience in a few short weeks," Jaheira said. "I can help you with the basics; the rest, including your own understanding of the Balance, is up to you. I will do my best to guide you for as long as we both see fit."

"I understand," Ember said. "Thank you."

"Excellent," Jaheira said. "We can start immediately, if you wish; I have been tasked with restoring Balance to this grove. It was defiled, and the druids who lived here were murdered; Nature still weeps for the loss. It will be a valuable lesson for you if you assist me in cleansing the area."

"I'd be glad to," Ember said. "It was so horrible, the way it was."

"You have seen this glade before?"

"We passed by when we were looking for a bandit camp. There was one druid left alive, but he had been driven insane, and we were forced to kill him. We buried him there," Ember said, pointing towards the barely visible grave, "after we dealt with the shadow druid that'd poisoned him and the others."

Jaheira's eyebrows rose. "So you are the ones Seniyad told me about," she said.

"You know Seniyad?"

"He is an old friend and mentor of mine, and it was he who sent us here; he could not spare any of his own druids," Jaheira said. "He did tell me that a group of adventurers had vanquished the shadow druid, but named no names. You did well here, and I would be glad to hear more about it."

"Gorion would be proud, indeed!" Khalid said with a smile. "I look forward to g-getting to know you, child, and your friends as w-well."

Ember smiled. "I look forward to getting to know you, too."


	47. Chapter 46: It's a Kind of Magic

**Chapter 46: It's a Kind of Magic**

Ember closed her eyes. The misty air was cool against her skin; as she focused her attention, she could feel the individual droplets touch her face. Around her, the activities of animals were betrayed by rustling leaves and twigs.

A week had passed since Jaheira had become her mentor. Most of Ember's time since then had been devoted to learning to understand nature; they had spent three days cleansing the defiled grove, and Ember was now able to recognize the signs of distress as well as the signs of health. They had travelled south after that, inspecting troubled areas in the forest as they went. Many of the spots were former bandit camp sites, but they also stopped in Mutamin's garden of statues, where they made sure there were no wayward basilisks still terrorizing the area. There had been very few skirmishes of any kind, which suited Ember just fine.

Ember's companions had taken the change of pace in stride. Kivan and Minsc had always shared their knowledge of woodlands with Ember and Imoen, and now they preoccupied themselves with telling Ember as much as they could about plants, animals, terrain, seasons, and nature in general, thus augmenting the lessons she received from Jaheira. Their emphasis was on the woods they were travelling through, and every new thing Ember saw was thoroughly explained. Alora skipped along behind Ember and the rangers, absorbing little nuggets of information about pretty birds and flowers and all the really great trees; sometimes, Boo rode on her shoulder instead of Minsc's.

In the evenings, Minsc shared what he knew about the Forest Lady with Ember. Through the giant's disjointed tale with roots in a culture alien to Ember, she learned at least as much about her newfound patron as she had learned through her studies in Candlekeep, and the ranger's knowledge filled some of the gaps Jaheira could not help her with.

She breathed slowly in, then out. Her new leather armour creaked, almost imperceptibly, with every breath.

Edwin seemed the most out of place of the group, and consistently kept as far away from Jaheira as he could. He had been less than happy when Imoen had demanded he give his enchanted wooden staff to Ember, and barely an hour passed where he did not complain about something pertaining to forests and travelling in them. Imoen walked with him most of the time, though, and when she wasn't goodnaturedly teasing him about something, the two mages held lively discussions about magic and spellcraft. It made Ember happy to watch them; nobody at Candlekeep had had the patience to answer the myriad of questions Imoen had about anything magical, not even Tethtoril or Gorion, and everyone had kept telling her that her mind wasn't ready for the challenges of magery. _You'd show them now, Immy,_ Ember had thought fondly as she'd listened to the two mages discuss the merits and disadvantages of conjured arrow spells the previous evening.

The drops that wet her skin were gradually becoming larger. It would be a rainy day.

Ember settled into her meditative thought patterns, and stretched out with her senses. She had practiced this every morning and evening the past week; with Jaheira in the evening and by herself in the morning. It was an exercise similar to the ones she'd used to learn to fully listen to her senses, only far more profound. It would be in a meditative state, communing with life around her, that she would be able to pray for spells.

Spells were different from cantrips; they required more focus and control than the simple invocations and prayers that could inspire a wounded tree to grow faster or cause a fire to yield no smoke, and were far too complex to memorize accurately through any measure but meditative prayer. To begin with, the Lady would only grant her a single full spell, Jaheira had told Ember, but she would be blessed with access to more spells as she gained the understanding needed to wield such power. She had sat with Jaheira as the older druid prayed in the evenings, but she wouldn't fully understand the process until she had accomplished it herself.

A bird burst into song under the shelter of a large-leafed bush.

According to Jaheira, Silvanus preferred prayers offered in the evening, under moonlight if possible, but Mielikki's followers could pray for spells either at sunrise or at sunset. It'd been a simple choice for Ember; she'd always loved being awake at dawn.

Ember listened, letting herself understand what she heard without thinking. The rustling leaves, the pattering of tiny feet, the crunching sound as one small animal caught and ate another, her own heartbeat; it all blended together in a quiet harmony as the sun rose unseen behind low, grey clouds.

With an almost painful clarity, she saw herself as a part of life. She felt how energy flowed through the forest around her, and through her. She could almost see how she could use that energy.

_My Lady of the Forest, show me what I can do._

Something shifted in her mind, and she understood. By drawing upon nature itself, she could heal, coax plants into reckless growth, arm herself, or strengthen and protect someone. Other possibilities would come later; for now, she could ask to hold one of those spells in her mind.

She knew exactly which spell she wanted to ask for first.

-.-.-

The morning drizzle had turned into a veritable downpour by the time they broke camp, and everyone wrapped their cloaks tightly around themselves as they walked. Some of the paths had turned to mud; Jaheira questioned Ember about her prayers while Kivan and Minsc scouted ahead in search of the least muddy path.

"Healing? An excellent choice," Jaheira said. "Its casting is straightforward, and you are likely to succeed on your first attempt. Entangling plants or summoning a shillelagh require more complex invocations."

"Couldn't she have asked for this infernal rain to stop instead?" Edwin muttered, pulling the hood of his robe lower down over his face. Jaheira shot the wizard an annoyed glare. Edwin glared back.

"It'll be all right, Eddie," Alora chirped. "We'll be in Gullykin tonight, and there'll be warm houses and warm drinks and the most wonderful food in the world!" The halfling skipped through a row of puddles.

"Do not try to cast your spell yet," Jaheira told Ember. "We may have use of it, and you would learn more from healing a genuine injury."

"But otherwise, I can still practice casting by healing someone who isn't wounded, right?" Ember asked.

"That is correct," Jaheira said. "The result of a healing spell improves if you have an understanding of the being you are healing, and of the nature of the injury. They become more efficient if you prepare, for instance by straightening broken limbs and aligning torn flesh, and if you focus your attention on an injured body part rather than the whole."

"What you mean is that she shouldn't forget how to treat wounds the nonmagical way, even when she's throwing spells around," Imoen said.

"Exactly. She should even further her knowledge in that field, if she wishes to be a skilled healer."

"I'll remember that," Ember said.

"She knows some of that stuff already," Imoen said. Ember looked warily at her friend, but thankfully Imoen didn't seem to want to elaborate; Ember wasn't sure she wanted to let Jaheira know that she already could heal after a fashion.

"That is g-good to hear," Khalid said.

-.-.-

The chance for Ember to test her new healing spell came soon enough. In the late afternoon, they spotted three gnolls near the foot of a hill. Minsc immediately charged at them; a minute or so later, Minsc's arm was injured, and the gnolls were dead. Kivan helped Minsc take off his ankheg plate mail while Alora held Boo, and Ember and Jaheira quickly inspected the damaged arm.

"It has been badly twisted," Jaheira proclaimed, "but there are no breaks. Are you ready to try your spell, child?"

Ember nodded solemnly, and reached for Minsc's arm. Her first instinct was to reach within to wherever it was her gift came from, but she caught herself before she triggered it. Her voice dropped almost to a whisper as she uttered words she hadn't realized she knew, and she slowly moved her hands in the required patterns, trying to focus her attention on the injured limb. As she spoke the final word and reached towards Minsc's arm, the spell triggered. Her gestures had gathered energy from their surroundings and into herself; now, the energy flowed through her like cool, soothing water, then leaped into Minsc's arm in a flash of blue. The bruises on the ranger's arm faded immediately.

"Minsc is ready to kick butts for justice again!" Minsc cried happily.

"Excellent work," Jaheira said, examining Minsc's arm. "It appears to be sound. Your casting was hesitant, but it is to be expected from a novice. You should request the same spell again tomorrow."

"I've planned on doing that," Ember said, feeling slightly elated. _That felt wonderful! And not at all like my gift, even though they do the same thing._ With the spell, the healing energy had come willingly, merely using her as a conduit; by comparison, her gift was more like forcefully drawing power from a source in herself. _I should try to look into that; maybe I'll be able to understand the gift better._

"Could we continue onwards now?" Edwin asked irritably.

"We will continue when we are ready, wizard," Jaheira replied.

"Aw, don't be so impatient, Eddie!" Alora said. "I'm sure Minsc is happy that his arm won't hurt, and we're really really close now! Aren't we, Khalid?"

"You are c-correct, little one," Khalid said with a smile. "W-we are less than an hour away."

"Provided we actually start moving instead of waiting for her to decide that we are ready to do so," Edwin said. "(Wretched druids and their wretched disregard for climate! Nothing like this would ever happen in Thay!)"

"Calm down, Edwin, we'll move on now," Ember said. "Happy?"

"(No.)"

-.-.-

A half hour later, the group caught sight of the village for the first time. A simple fence made from long, slender birch trunks encircled a cluster of small, odd-looking houses; as far as they could tell, there was only one building of regular size in the entire village.

"Their houses are m-mostly underground," Khalid said. "We only see the t-top level. That is the winery," he continued, indicating the larger building.

"They had a problem with kobolds recently," Jaheira said. "As it turned out, one of the villagers was in cohorts with an ogre mage. They had built a tunnel between his house and the Firewine catacombs; the kobolds infested the village through the tunnel. We backtracked the creatures and found they were merely part of a larger kobold infestation; almost half of them had gone to Nashkel."

"Where we took care of them," Imoen said.

"Yes. The ogre mage and the half-ogre cleric in Nashkel had worked together, convincing the kobolds to move here in search of a reborn kobold deity. We believe they assembled near Darkhold, but have not been able to prove Zhentarim involvement," Jaheira said.

"The Iron Throne wishes to implicate the Zhentarim," Kivan said. "We have seen many signs."

"I see. How convenient for them to have a readily available scapegoat," Jaheira said.

Alora ran ahead of them to the village gate, where she leaped into the arms of a finely dressed halfling. "Uncle Gandolar!" she squealed.

"Alora!" the halfling exclaimed. He hugged her tightly and turned to face the rest of the group. "Welcome back, Khalid and Jaheira, and well met, travellers! Gandolar Luckyfoot, at your disposal. To what does our little village owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"We wished to see if the kobolds had returned, and we'd like to stay here while I instruct Ember," Jaheira said, indicating Ember with a hand.

"And Eddie's tired of walking and we're all tired and wet and hungry because it was **such** a long walk through the woods!" Alora added, speaking at a breakneck pace.

Gandolar laughed. "Hungry and wet? That will not do! Come, you shall join me around the hearth, and I shall bid you a proper welcome to Gullykin! Oh, this will be splendid!" he said, and beckoned them to follow.

Ember and Imoen shared amused glances and followed the rest of their friends into the halfling village.


	48. Chapter 47: What Lies Within

**Chapter 47: What Lies Within**

Ember sat with her back against a tree on the outskirts of Gullykin. The halflings had proven to be excellent hosts; they'd been treated almost like family when they arrived the previous evening. Mayor Gandolar had taken them to dinner in his own home, where they'd been fed meat and tubers and creamy sauces and apple preserves. After that, they'd been shown to a halfling house - or burrow, as it was called - where there were eight freshly made beds, long enough for even Minsc. Alora told them that this was the guest burrow.

It was hard to figure out exactly how Alora related to her uncle Gandolar. He was not her uncle in the true sense of the word, but merely an extended relative; Alora's father's cousin's sister's something. Gandolar and Alora had tried to explain, but nobody, not even Edwin, had been able to keep track of the genealogical twists.

Jaheira approached. Seeing the older druid, Ember stood up from the ground and brushed dirt off her clothes.

"Good morning, child," Jaheira said.

"Good morning."

"Today I will teach you how to fight with that staff of yours. It is a good weapon, but it is wasted as a walking stick, and the way you carried it in the forest indicates a lack of familiarity with it. Have you ever tried fighting with a staff?"

Ember cringed inwardly. "Not really," she said slowly. "I practiced with Minsc a few times when we got that staff, but then we met Edwin, and I gave it to him instead."

"I can imagine the wizard used it as little as you do," Jaheira said. "I know you were a swordfighter, and scimitars would at least hold some familiarity for you. If you wish, I could teach you how to use those instead of the staff."

"No!" Ember said. "Er, I'd prefer just using a staff for now," she continued hurriedly.

Jaheira raised an eyebrow. "Child, what is wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing's wrong!"

"Why this reluctance? From what I have heard of the hero of Nashkel and Cloakwood, I'd have thought you would look forward to learning how to fight with druidic weaponry."

"I... I'd just rather learn the other stuff first," Ember said, without conviction.

"Child, I cannot help you if you do not tell me the truth," Jaheira said.

Ember stared at the ground, feeling her cheeks redden.

"I do not have time for such foolishness," Jaheira said. "Tell me the problem when you feel ready, and I will help you." The older druid turned and walked back into the village.

-.-.-

"You're being buffleheaded," Imoen said when Ember finished. The two girls were sitting on their newly-made beds; scurrying halfling women had already replaced the sheets they'd slept in with fresh, crisp linens.

"But I don't think she'll understand!" Ember said plaintively.

"You'll never know till you try, Em," Imoen said, fixing her with a stern gaze. Ember felt like she was being scolded by an elderly tutor.

"What if she thinks there's something wrong with me?"

"She already does, remember? She just doesn't know **what**." Imoen reached out and gave Ember's hand a gentle squeeze. "I know you're worried, but I'm sure you'll be able to fight properly again. You just have to tell yourself that."

"I guess..."

"Remember why you did this. You wanted to fix yourself, right? That means fixing all of yourself, including the fighting, and not running away from the difficult bits."

Ember nodded quietly.

"Go talk with her," Imoen said. "You don't have to tell her about **everything**, you know. But you do have to tell her about that stuff."

"You're right," Ember said after a long pause. She stood up and hugged Imoen. "Thanks, Immy. I'll go and try to explain to her now."

"Shoo," Imoen said, grinning broadly and making shoving gestures.

-.-.-

Jaheira was walking through a meadow south of the village; every now and then, she bent down to pick a herb, which she placed in a flat wicker basket that stood nearby. Ember slowly walked up to her. "Um, Jaheira?" she said.

"Yes, child?" Jaheira said without turning around.

"About the fighting... I'm scared."

Jaheira turned to face her. "Why, child?"

"I... I liked it too much. That's why I had to stop. There's a part of me that likes killing people, cutting them up and watching them bleed, and I'm afraid of feeling that way again the next time I have to fight something," she said, staring at the ground.

"And a scimitar being similar to a sword makes it even more frightening?" Jaheira asked.

"I think so."

"Look me in the eyes, child," Jaheira said. Ember obeyed, and the half-elf studied her closely. "Do **you** like killing?" she asked.

"No!" Ember exclaimed. "I... there was a bandit camp. I slaughtered everyone in a tent. A score or so bandits, and I was laughing. It just felt easier and easier to kill, and then... it became difficult **not** to. That's why I got rid of my sword; it was enchanted and wanted to kill, so it only made things worse," she said miserably. "I didn't like it at all. I hated who I was becoming, and what I was doing. I kept having dreams about all the blood I couldn't wash off my hands. They've stopped now, though."

"Tell me more about that sword."

"It was made by Sharrans. Imoen said its first owner had been betrayed, and that rumour said the sword wanted vengeance. I didn't really believe it at first, but towards the end, I could feel it. I had Minsc destroy it."

"Did you ever kill an innocent person?"

"No. I never attacked anyone without a reason."

"That is good," Jaheira said quietly. "Child, you are not the first person who has felt bloodlust, and you will not be the last. Many surrender to it and become berserkers; you have fought it. I am proud of you. However, you have not beaten it. Right now, you fear to take up arms against anything. That will not do. "

"I know."

Jaheira picked up her herb basket. "Come with me," she said, and headed towards the village.

The two druids walked through the main cluster of burrows, not stopping until they stood in front of the winery. It was a round and clad with ivy, just like the burrows, but it was three times as large as any other building in the village. In addition to the production and storage of a myriad of wines, the building also functioned as an infirmary.

"Wait here," Jaheira said, and entered the winery. She returned a few minutes later, holding two plain wooden staves instead of the herb basket, and led Ember behind the building and a short way into the woods. They stopped in a circular meadow that was completely ringed by sturdy trees. The grass was short and the ground was flat, and a few targets - some bull's eyes, some humanoid dummies of varying size - at one end of the meadow.

"The halflings use this field for weapons practice," Jaheira said, and handed Ember one of the staves.

"First, you must hold the staff as a weapon, not as a walking aid," Jaheira said. Ember shifted her grip on the staff, holding it with both hands and with one end raised. Jaheira adjusted the position of Ember's hands. "Like this. It gives more control and better balance," she said, and grabbed the other staff in a similar fashion.

"Now what?" Ember asked pensively.

"We are not going to fight each other today. I am going to show you the basic ways to hit with a staff, and you are going to practice them, but you will only strike at air. Are you ready?"

"I guess so," Ember said. Jaheira raised her staff.

The rest of the day was spent practicing blows against non-existing foes. Jaheira showed Ember high strikes, low blows, and guarding techniques, all without anything to react against other than brief instructions as to what the move was generally supposed to strike or guard against. Without a proper target, it took a while for Ember to get into a fluid rhythm, but at the same time, the lack of a target let her focus on the techniques without worrying about getting urges to kill.

"Concentrate on your weapon and on how you move," Jaheira said when they stopped for a light meal; by the standards of the halfling village, it was barely a snack. "It is a tool, and I want you to understand how to use it."

"But tools are normally used with whatever they act upon," Ember pointed out.

"Not so afraid anymore, child?" Jaheira said with a small grin. "We must also find out how to quell your bloodlust, if you still have it, and it is easier if I can do that and not have to teach you how to handle the weapon at the same time."

Ember nodded. "I understand," she said, and reached for a piece of chicken.

-.-.-

By evening, Jaheira felt satisfied with Ember's progress. "Tomorrow, we will spar," she told the girl as they parted for the evening; she'd hesitated only a moment before agreeing. Jaheira watched the girl leave before heading for the burrow she shared with Khalid. He was already inside, cleaning his sword. His face lit up as she entered.

"Hello, my love," he said with a broad smile. "H-how was practice?"

Jaheira hugged him, and sighed. "It could have been worse. She knows bloodlust, and was scared of fighting again; she told me her sword had wanted vengeance," she told his shoulder.

"A curse?" Khalid asked.

"A light one, perhaps. They destroyed the weapon, so we cannot inspect it. We did not spar today, but I think she will be ready tomorrow. If she still feels killing urges, I will try to teach her to control them."

"She d-does not seem the berserker type. She will be just fine, I am sure."

"You are probably right. But I do not think she has told me everything," Jaheira said. "There is something troubling about her, but I don't know what."

"I know that you will give her as much h-help as she will accept," Khalid said, and kissed her ear.

"Thank you, my love," Jaheira said quietly as they gave each other a prolonged embrace.

-.-.-

Ember changed her mind about going to bed, and walked to her meditation spot at the edge of the woods. The birds were quiet at this hour, and there was no wind to rustle the leaves and the ripening apples. She sat down with crossed legs on a patch of long, dry grass, and closed her eyes.

Slowly, she settled into her meditative state. The sensations were markedly different from when she meditated in the morning; now, all the plants were entering their resting phase, and the creatures that settled when she prayed in the morning were just waking up.

She was not going to pray now.

As she became aware of the intricate patterns of energy around her, she did not direct her attention to her goddess or to the abundance of life around her. Instead, she looked inwards, at the small knot of life that was herself. She focused closer and closer, studying the energy that ran through her and made her what she was...

Something was wrong.

There was some kind of flaw in the energy that was her. It was small and faint, and all but obscured by a vibrant nimbus, but it was definitely there. And it pervaded her entire being.

Ember exited the meditative trance with a shuddering gasp. She sat still for several minutes, holding her aching head and rocking slightly back and forth, before she returned to the burrow for the night.


	49. Chapter 48: Sticks and Stones

**Chapter 48: Sticks and Stones**

Imoen stretched her legs and yawned. She was sitting with Edwin and Kivan on a low bench at the edge of the halflings' practice field. Kivan was making adjustments to his bow, while Edwin alternated between grumbling and leafing through his spellbook in search of spells he wanted to knock into Imoen's simian brain, as he'd put it. It was a mild, sunny day, and the trees were changing into very pretty colours.

Imoen glanced towards the center of the field, where Ember was sparring with Jaheira for the third day running. Right now, the two druids were trying to knock each other to the ground with their staves. From the distance, it looked a bit like a silly dance with a lot of jumping and leaping around, but it looked like they were jumping and leaping quite a bit faster today than when they'd first started. "Ember's getting better, isn't she?" Imoen said.

Kivan looked up. "Aye, but she is still holding back," he said. "She is not comfortable with the weapon yet."

"I can't really blame her for taking her time. Not with what's going on," Imoen said.

"What is going on?" Edwin asked with sudden interest.

"Um, you know. Stuff!" Imoen said lightly. She was not about to tell Edwin that Ember had seen a flaw in herself when she meditated; Ember had told Imoen and Kivan about that in private, and besides, Edwin would probably not understand at all. He'd probably be intrigued instead of worried, and he'd probably just try to push Ember into investigating the flaw some more. As far as Imoen was concerned, that was the last thing her friend needed right now.

"Stuff," Edwin repeated, fixing Imoen with a stony gaze.

"Yep, stuff. With not wanting the bloodlust to return, and all that."

"Ah, yes. That stuff," Edwin said. "(Keeping secrets, I am sure. How am I supposed to work under these conditions!)" he muttered, and buried his nose in his spellbook again.

"Hey, Eddie, what are you looking at?" Imoen asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"Stuff."

With a deep and somewhat exaggerated sigh, Imoen returned her attention to the practice field. Ember and Jaheira were no longer sparring, and a dozen or so young halflings had joined them. Alora was there too, talking animatedly with Jaheira. Imoen wondered what they were talking about.

"It appears they have convinced Ember to try to learn how to use slings," Kivan remarked. Some of the halflings were straightening the targets at the end of the field. One of the halflings handed Ember what looked like a long, thin strap, and another gave her a handful of pebbles. Jaheira pulled a similar strap from her belt.

_This should be interesting!_ "I want to see this! Come on, Eddie!" Imoen exclaimed, pulling Edwin's sleeve. The wizard reluctantly followed her, and Kivan trailed behind them.

"A sling is a simple weapon," the elf said as they drew closer to the practice range, "but it can be devastating in skilled hands. I hope Ember takes to it."

"Me too," Imoen said. Ember would probably be better off, in more than one way, if she knew how to defend herself without having to get into close range combat.

Alora ran towards them from across the field. "Hey there hi there!" she exclaimed. "Bubbling badgers, isn't this fun?"

Edwin snorted derisively.

"Why do you have to be such a grumpypuss? Cheer up!" Alora said to Edwin. "Ooh, I know! Why don't you to learn how to use slings, too? It'll be great, I promise!"

"Do I look like I wish to wield such inferior projectiles?" Edwin asked. "(Why can't she just go away?)"

"I don't see the harm in having something else you can use besides the spells," Imoen said.

"You forget that I **had** something else until you insisted I give your friend my staff!" Edwin all but yelled.

Before Imoen could gather her wits enough to remind Edwin that the staff was Ember's in the first place and that she needed it more now and that he was being a selfish oaf who was no better than any so-called barbarian they'd met on the road, Kivan spoke up. "You should try the sling," he said in a low voice.

Edwin glared furiously at Kivan and Imoen, but didn't say anything. He turned huffily and stomped off towards the practice field.

"Poor Eddie! He doesn't know how to loosen up," Alora said. For a moment, she almost looked a bit troubled, but then she grinned broadly. "Help him, we will!" she exclaimed, and skipped after the wizard.

With a groan, Imoen rested her forehead against the trunk of a nearby oak. "He's such a mopey beetlebrain!" she told the tree. Edwin'd never been what she'd call cheerful, but his mood had been worse than ever since they left Baldur's Gate. He hated the forests, despised the halflings - insipid miniature simians, as he called them - and spent hours looking at the same pages of his spellbook over and over again. His grumpiness was starting to get on her nerves, but in a way, she could understand him; there wasn't really anything for a mage to do here.

They weren't too far away from Beregost, she mused; a trip there might help cheer him up. They could pick up more magical items from Thalantyr or from the smaller shop in the town itself, and maybe they could find some interesting stuff at the blacksmith. It'd be fun! Imoen chuckled softly and admitted to herself that she, too, would like to get a break from the quiet forest village.

-.-.-

Ember fumbled a bit with her sling, trying to wrap the weapon's long cords around her hand as casually as the halflings did. One end had a loop that went around her wrist, securing the sling to her hand, and the other had a simple knot that she was to hold on to until she released the bullet. The bullet itself lay in a small, flat pocket between the cords. The grumbling beside her told her that Edwin was struggling with the weapon as well.

A halfling grabbed her hand and turned it around. "No no no," he said, adjusting the cord. "Like this! See? Unwind smoothly it will!" He demonstrated by making her rotate her hand slightly, and showed how the cord would not snag on any of her fingers or on itself.

"Oh, like this?" Ember said, and twirled the sling experimentally without letting the bullet fly.

"Yes! Yes!" the halfling exclaimed, clapping his hands with delight. "Now, try to throw!" He gestured towards the targets.

"Shouldn't we go closer?" Ember asked.

"No, no, that's not necessary," the halfling insisted. "Watch!" With a single, smooth movement, he made an overhand throw that sent the bullet flying straight towards one of the farthermost targets. Ember stared in amazement.

With a broad grin, the halfling helped Ember load her sling. She twirled it experimentally to get more of a feel for the stone's weight, and then tried to copy the overhand throw she'd just seen. Her bullet veered quite a bit to the side, but it did make it halfway across the practice field before hitting the short grass.

"Ooh, look at that!" Alora exclaimed from behind Ember. "Holy hopping horsies, a good first throw that was! Do it again!"

Ember grinned at her small companion and reloaded her sling. Her next shot was shorter, but it was less off target. She aimed her third shot at a closer target, and managed to get within a few feet of it. _Hey, this isn't so bad!_ She shot a fourth bullet.

"There must be better ways to spend one's time, even here," Edwin growled beside her.

"Actually, it's kind of fun once you get the feel of it," Ember said.

"Fun? You must be delusional. (As if anyone in this barbaric excuse for a village knows how to have fun.)" Scowling furiously, the wizard slowly loaded his sling and held it unsteadily. Two halflings tried to correct him, but it seemed they only made him angrier. Eventually, he managed to throw the stone, which wobbled through the air and landed barely a dozen feet away.

"Enough!" Edwin shouted. "I refuse to waste more time on this nonsense! (Damn these diminutive simians and their diminutive string weapons!)" He flung his sling to the ground and stormed out of the practice field.

Ember stared at the rapidly departing wizard. "Oh dear," she sighed, sharing a look with Imoen and Kivan.

-.-.-

Edwin hated the world.

He especially hated this village. And halflings. And useless strings that were no match for a properly applied fireball.

The door slid open. The disgustingly cheerful girl who'd helped orchestrate his public humiliation stepped quietly into the room. He hated her too.

"Heya," she said, grinning at him like some insipid fool. No, he didn't hate her, except when she was like this.

"What is it **now**?" he snarled. Imoen's smile faltered. For a brief moment, he hated himself.

"Um, I was just wondering if you'd like to come to Beregost with me tomorrow," she said.

He didn't hate Beregost, as far as he could recall.

"Why?" he asked.

"Well, it'd be boring to go alone. Not that I'll be going alone, but Kivan isn't exactly the most interesting company I could have," she said. "Besides, I'll need your help deciding what to get, won't I?"

"(So, I am interesting company)," Edwin muttered quietly. Of course he was. The girl had a modicum of taste, after all, which was why he didn't really hate her. "I thought you had your little divination spell to help you with that," he said.

"What, when I can just pester ol' Thalantyr till he tells me what his stuff is?" Imoen grinned lopsidedly. He hadn't quite been able to decide if he hated that grin or not. "That's not what I need help with. After all, we can't afford to buy everything he has."

He hated Thalantyr, just a little, but he did like the old mage's wares. "Obviously not. I suppose I shall have to lower my brain to the task of choosing the most worthwhile magical supplies," he said.

Imoen beamed at him. "Thanks, Eddie! We'll leave at dawn, if that's all right," she said. "See you in the morning!" she exclaimed without waiting for him to answer, and left as abruptly as she'd arrived.

He hated when she did that.

"(At the very least, I'll get away from these midgets for a while)," he muttered with a sigh.


	50. Chapter 49: Words

**Chapter 49: Words**

Imoen, Edwin and Kivan made it halfway to Beregost by nightfall, and set up camp at the base of a low, sandy cliff. It'd been a quiet day; Kivan had talked as much as usual, and Edwin had barely even mumbled to himself. He hadn't even responded properly when Imoen started talking about all the useful things she could do with divination spells.

Just as Imoen was dozing off, she heard a strange noise. It sounded a bit like the plink a small rock made if it fell on a larger. A short while later, she heard it again. _It's not from the cliff, is it?_

"Kivan, do you hear that?" she whispered nervously.

"Aye," the elf replied, sounding too calm for an emergency.

"What is it?" Imoen asked.

"The wizard," Kivan said.

"What is Eddie up to now?" Imoen muttered, mostly to herself.

"Go see for yourself," Kivan replied.

Imoen got out of her bedroll, pulled on her boots, and followed the noise. Soon, she saw a glint of magelight between two skinny trees, and soon after that she saw Edwin. He sat on a dry slope that was covered with pebbles, and a magelight hovered over his head. He was picking up small stones from the ground and flinging them at a boulder some ten feet away. The stones made the little plinks as they hit the larger rock.

"Heya, it's me," Imoen said quietly.

Edwin turned and looked at her. It was too dark to make out his face properly, but she was sure he was glaring at her.

"Um, whatcha doing?" she asked.

"What does it look like?" Edwin asked. "(Not a moment of peace...)"

"It looks and sounds like you're throwing pebbles at a rock," Imoen said.

"How perceptive."

"Why are you doing that?"

"Why must you always ask me such inane questions? (Besides, it's none of her business!)"

"Because you're not holding up your end of the bargain, silly!"

"(What?) What bargain?"

"The deal was that I take you with me to Beregost, and you keep me company. But so far, you've been as quiet as Kivan, and now you're keeping me awake with those rocks!"

Edwin picked up another rock and threw it. It hit the boulder dead center.

"Nice hit," Imoen said.

"One cannot become the world's greatest spellcaster without good aim," Edwin said sourly. "(And my aim **is** good!)"

_Oh. So that's what this is about._ "I'm sorry about yesterday," Imoen said.

"Why? Was it not amusing to watch the great Edwin Odesseiron humiliate himself with a child's toy?"

Imoen frowned. _Why does he have to be so touchy about his shortcomings?_ "Alora tried to show me how to use a sling yesterday too, you know," Imoen said.

"And?"

"The only bullet I managed to throw at all went backwards."

Edwin was quiet for a while. "Your friend had no such problems," he eventually said.

"You never saw her with a bow, though. She can use one, but she doesn't like having to stand still and aim - I think it makes her nervous. She threw her bow away before we even reached Nashkel."

"She is very good at discarding weapons on a whim," Edwin said.

"I'm sorry about the staff, too," Imoen said. "I didn't think you'd miss it; you never use it, after all."

Edwin lobbed another stone at the boulder. "Yes, I did."

"When?" Imoen asked.

"In the mountains. In the mines. In the bandit camp. While I am not foolish enough to try to bludgeon anyone to death with brute strength (especially when I can obliterate them with a thought instead) I do know the value of being able to shove an enemy out of my way with a long, pointy stick. (I shouldn't even have to tell her this!)"

"Oh. I didn't realize."

"I also used it as walking support in this rough terrain your friends seem intent upon dragging us through. (And she forgets that there are few things more stylish than a wizard with a staff.)"

"I should have asked you more nicely if she could have it back," Imoen said unhappily.

"Yes, you should have," Edwin said, but he didn't really sound angry anymore. "(She can still be so foolish at times...)"

"We can get you a new staff in Beregost, perhaps?" Imoen suggested.

"Perhaps. (They'll probably only have sticks that would be better used as kindling.)"

"And we can definitely get you some new spells. Do you remember that monster summoning scroll Thalantyr had? We can afford it now!"

"I remember," Edwin said, sounding a bit enthusiastic all of a sudden. "Yes, we should be able to afford it and everything else we require with careful managment of our finances."

"That shouldn't be a problem, if we're properly rested," Imoen said.

"My powerful mind is perfectly capable of money management at any hour, day or night!"

Imoen grinned. "Of course it is. Good night, Eddie," she said, and headed back to camp.

"Don't call me that," Edwin said distractedly. He threw another stone at the boulder, extinguished the magelight, and followed Imoen.

-.-.-

Imoen skipped happily down the front steps of High Hedge, closely followed by Edwin. He was mumbling something about undignified ways to leave a mage tower. Kivan waited for them at the bottom of the steps; he'd not been interested in visiting Thalantyr, and had waited outside instead.

"Did you get everything you wanted?" Kivan asked.

"Yep!" Imoen exclaimed cheerfully. "Thalantyr was busy with some kind of flesh golem research, so he had Melicamp help us instead. You remember him, right?"

"Aye," Kivan said.

"Anyway, he was still grateful that we'd rescued him from chickenhood, so we got some pretty nice discounts!" Imoen said with a grin.

"You forget that he was far from immune to the way you smiled at him," Edwin remarked. "(Unlike others I could mention. Yes, very immune.)"

"Well, he wasn't supposed to be immune, was he?" Imoen said, and pulled a thick bundle of spell scrolls out of her bag. "Look at how many we got, Kivan! And they're all good ones, too; some of them I can't even memorize yet!"

"We also have quite a bit of coin left over," Edwin said.

"Good," Kivan said. "We'll be able to get more supplies at the smithy tomorrow."

"Yes, yes, but let us get back to town now. I want to scribe these in peace and quiet as soon as possible," Edwin said.

It was already early in the evening when the three of them left High Hedge, but Kivan knew the quickest possible path to Beregost, and they made it to the town by nightfall. They headed straight for the Jovial Juggler; there was a slight chill in the air, and Imoen was more than happy to get inside. Kivan set off to arrange for their rooms, while Imoen and Edwin claimed the largest available table in the common room.

"Do you remember the last time we were here?" Imoen asked as they quickly buried the tabletop under a thick layer of scrolls.

"(Of course I do.) What about it?" Edwin asked.

"I just remembered the fiddler that was here that night. Wasn't he a terrific player?"

"(Oh.) I suppose he was. Now, where is that summoning scroll?"

"Right here," Imoen said, and handed the scroll to Edwin. "I wonder who'll be playing tonight?"

"It is of no consequence as long as they do not disturb our important work," Edwin said. "(Dancing is for common peons, not for the intellectual elite. We have better things to do than that. Yes, that's it.)"

While Edwin buried his nose in the complex scrolls, muttering every now and then, Imoen looked around the room. A lot of people were there, and many of them were talking loudly. She decided to try to listen in on some of the conversations going around her.

People seemed happier than last time, she noticed. As far as she could tell, they'd just gotten fresh iron supplies, and Taerom and his assistants were very busy turning it into new swords and knives and ploughs. _We caused that,_ she thought happily. She grinned when someone behind her raised his glass to the adventurers who'd cleared the Nashkel mines.

Another topic she noticed was that of the bandits. No caravans had been attacked in the past three weeks, she heard some merchants say. They were loudly arguing about whether that meant it was safer, or whether it was just because not many caravans set out in the first place.

"It will be a cold day in the lower planes before I risk my neck in the ruin o' Ulcaster!" someone said behind Imoen. "Who knows what lurks around in those tight passages?"

"Simple logic says there must be magic treasure in the ruins of a magician's school such as Ulcaster, but 'tis a treacherous task to get to it. Dead wizards are not known to sleep soundly, nor to wake jovial," someone else replied.

"Hey, did you hear that?" Imoen whispered to Edwin, pulling his sleeve to get his attention.

"Hear what?" Edwin asked without looking up from his scrolls.

Imoen turned around. Two richly dressed men, merchants or maybe even nobles, were just sitting down at the table behind theirs. "Excuse me, but what is that Ulcaster place you mentioned?" she asked with her sweetest smile.

"You have not heard of the Ulcaster school of magic?" one of the men, a stout fellow with a puffy green hat, replied.

"It was a storehouse of knowledge; the pride of the area," the other man added. He was tall and thin and had a lot of purple ribbons on his tunic.

"A school of magic, you say?" Edwin asked.

"Aye. Its ruins are but a days' march east of here," Puffy Hat said.

"Rumor tells of a magical gate in the bottom o' the school ruins, but no-one knows where it leads," Purple Ribbons added nervously. "Anywhere is better than that accursed place, if ye ask me!"

"What can be so bad about it?" Imoen asked.

"Haunted, it is!" Purple Ribbons exclaimed.

"It was destroyed some three hundred years hence. I've not met a soul who claims to know why it occurred; none that were there are alive to say, and them that haunt the place... cannot tell," Puffy Hat said.

"Being dead longer than you were alive must tend to addle the mind," Purple Ribbons whispered.

"I see," Imoen said. "Thank you for telling us this; we might have gone there completely unaware!"

"Oh heavens, that would be disastrous!" Puffy Hat exclaimed, wiping his brow with his hat. "Come, my friend, I need some fresh air," he told his companion. The two of them bowed deeply and left the table.

"I think we should visit the school, aware," Imoen said, and winked at Edwin.

"Oh, absolutely," Edwin said. "(The girl has a brilliant mind, when she chooses to use it!)"

He very nearly smiled.


	51. Chapter 50: Ulcaster

**Chapter 50: Ulcaster**

Edwin rummaged furiously through the stockpile of staves at the Beregost smithy. It was a warm, sunny autumn morning, and Imoen was humming as she skipped around the store in search of interesting items, but he was doing his best to ignore such irrelevant details. As he had predicted, most of the staves were worthless; heavy, unenchanted, and probably with splinters. No self-respecting wizard would willingly settle for such inadequacy...

There.

It was made of pale wood inlaid with gold. It had been polished to perfect smoothness, and had the familiar, characteristic feel of a magical weapon. Its enchantments were not overly powerful, but it was at the very least a match to the staff that had been so unfairly taken away from him.

It would suffice.

He pulled the staff out of the weapons rack and placed it on the bench they were gathering their merchandise on. Kivan had already almost filled the bench with several bundles of arrows, a few bags of sling bullets, and a set of enchanted leather armour.

"Hey, Eddie, would you look at this?" Imoen chirped from behind a shelf.

"(Now what?) What is it?" he asked with a sigh.

The girl held out a handful of small darts.

"I fail to see the significance of these."

"They're stunning darts," Imoen said. "You throw them at someone, and if you hit good enough, you'll stun them for a bit."

"I know what stunning darts are."

"I saw them laying there, and remembered how good you were at throwing rocks. So I thought you should have some of them! They could buy you some time in a tight spot, I think," she said with a broad grin.

"I... see," he said slowly. It **was** a good idea.

"Well?" she said.

"I shall take them," Edwin said. Imoen smiled and placed the darts on the bench alongside the other items.

-.-.-

After many insufferable miles across an uneven hill landscape (which made Edwin even more pleased to have a staff in his possession once again), the three of them reached the Ulcaster ruins in the late afternoon.

"So far, I am not impressed," Edwin said. "(No, not impressed at all.)" A collection of tumbled stone walls crowned the grassy hill before them. The builders had clearly at least had the sense to import granite for building, as the stones used in the buildings were darker and looked more sturdier than anything it'd be possible to make from the local rocks (a brittle sandstone that crumbled at the lightest touch). That did not, however, change the fact that there were no actual buildings left. There didn't appear to even be anywhere to begin to search for artifacts.

"Maybe there's more below the surface. Cellars, storage rooms, that kind of stuff," Imoen said.

"We shall investigate it," Kivan said, "but be watchful. There may be hidden dangers."

A narrow path led up the side of the hill, and once they'd disposed of a few hobgoblins that were foolish enough to get in their way, they followed the path up to the ruins. Up close, they were even less impressive.

"This is a waste of time," Edwin said. "(This is what one gets for listening to local buffoons.)"

"Giving up so easily, Eddie?" the infuriating girl said.

"Edwin Odesseiron never gives up!" he exclaimed, but she merely grinned at him and ran off to the far end of the ruins. "(That girl has entirely too little respect for my greatness,)" he muttered unhappily, and looked around. He was standing in a large square outlined by stones. It had to be a study hall, he deduced, and the two largest boulders had to mark where the entrance once was. Yes, and where Imoen stood were several smaller rooms, probably quarters or storage rooms.

"There's so little left," he heard Imoen say. He glanced her way and saw her nudge a rock with her foot. The last rays of the setting sun caught her hair as the breeze whipped it around; for a moment, it looked like a living flame danced around her head. Then the sun set, extinguishing the illusion. Edwin turned his attention back to the stones that he had determined were once the floor of a dais.

"The stones were taken away for other buildings, perhaps," the elf suggested.

"Don't be so stupid," Edwin said.

"I don't see what's so stupid about that," Imoen said.

Edwin sighed deeply. "What is so stupid about it is the fact that the locals are too scared of this place to go anywhere near it," he said. "It is a haunted magic school, remember? (Why must I always point out the obvious?)"

"...the best of schools..." a voice whispered.

"Who said that?!" Edwin demanded.

"...a storehouse of arcane knowledge..."

"Show yourself!" Edwin shouted. "(I am not scared, damn it!)"

"Look," Imoen whispered, pointing quietly towards the dais.

"I don't see anything," Edwin said. "(A particularly thick patch of mist, perhaps... mist with arms and legs... oh dear.)"

"...lost, all lost..." the apparition moaned.

"What can we do for you?" Kivan asked quietly.

"...all for knowledge did we strive... nothing left..." the ghost said. "Hope would return with the retrieval of the simplest of tomes... beneath the rubble... on the lowest floors... return hope... history is so important..."

"Didn't I tell you there was more to this place?" Edwin exclaimed.

"Sure you did," Imoen said. She turned towards him, and her expression froze. "Um, Eddie... **run**!"

Edwin turned around, and found himself face to face with a dozen or so animated skeletons. He quickly raised a hand and fired a volley of magic missiles at one of them. It crumpled to the ground with a satisfying crunching sound, but the others advanced. He took Imoen's advice, and sprinted towards her and the elf. She was firing her own magic missiles at the skeletons, while Kivan used his war hammer to smash the ones that got too close. Several ghouls were now visible behind the skeletons. Edwin noted with some surprise that the moaning creatures swung their large fists at anything in their path, including the stones of the ruins.

"There are too many!" Kivan shouted. "Fall back!"

Edwin's shoulder exploded with pain, and he staggered backwards. The ground seemed to vanish beneath his feet. _Is this the end?_ he wondered.

Then, everything went black.

-.-.-

Something cool and invigorating trickled down Edwin's throat. He sputtered, then swallowed most of it. He opened his eyes, and found himself looking at Imoen's very worried face.

"Are you all right?" the girl demanded. He noticed a half empty bottle of healing potion in her hand.

"What happened?" he asked, not feeling comfortable without a complete grasp of the situation.

"Throwing dagger in your shoulder. I took it out," she said, and held up the offending object. He winced. "And then you fell down this stairwell. You hit your head pretty badly on the steps," she continued.

Edwin looked around. In the dim glow of Imoen's magelight, he could make out dusty walls and some rubble. "Here?" he asked.

"We are below the ruins," Kivan said. "The undead are waiting above, but they should depart by dawn. I do not think they can descend."

"I see," Edwin said, thoughtfully rubbing the bump on his head. "(Any treasures must be down here.) We must explore this area while we wait."

"I knew you'd say that," Imoen said with a grin.

The three of them walked through a maze of crisscrossing hallways. Every now and then, Imoen stopped to disarm a trap, and every now and then, Kivan shot arrows into the darkness. His targets, whatever they were, died with loud whimpers.

After what felt like hours, they reached a large room that seemed fairly well preserved. And in a side alcove...

"Look at that, Eddie!" Imoen exclaimed as the magelight revealed a pile of books and scrolls and who knew what else. "Let me just check for traps!" The girl darted forward, and a wolf darted out of the alcove, snarling and lunging at Imoen.

It was the largest wolf Edwin had ever seen.

Imoen screamed and rolled sideways, dodging the wolf's first attack. It growled angrily and turned to charge her again. One of Kivan's arrows bounced harmlessly off the wolf's side. The elf cursed. Edwin Odesseiron, the greatest wizard of all time, acted.

A stunning dart to its buttocks, to halt its attack. Then, a flame arrow, setting its fur ablaze. Then magic missiles. Imoen (the clever girl) was pelting it with her own missiles even as she lay sideways on the floor. The creature was whimpering with pain by the time Kivan broke its neck with a swift hammer blow.

"Thanks, Eddie," Imoen said, and wrapped her arms around his neck. For a moment, this irrational emotional display annoyed him. Then his heart swelled with pride.

"It was nothing. I am, after all, Edwin Odesseiron," he said. "(Now, about that treasure...)"

Imoen let go of him, and they sifted through the pile in the alcove. Although most of it was rubbish, they found numerous scrolls and potions, and even the occasional wand, making the trip more than worth their while.

"Hey, I found a history book," Imoen said, holding up a dusty tome. "I wonder if that ghost would want it?"

"Who knows?" Kivan said.

"It does not matter, for he can't have it," Edwin said.

"Says who?" Imoen replied. She picked up the book and hurried towards the exit.

"It's dangerous! I demand you stop!" Edwin shouted, but to no avail. He glanced exasperatedly at the elf, and the two of them ran after her. "(Women,)" Edwin muttered between breaths.

They didn't catch up with the foolish girl until they reached the stairwell to the surface. Imoen was standing at the top, talking with the ghost.

"...to teach once more... in a celestial class..." Edwin heard the ghost say.

"Good luck!" Imoen said.

"...come, children... we will prevent the same from happening... some day..." the ghost said. The skeletons and other undead creatures gathered around the apparition. Edwin gripped Imoen by the arm and pulled her back from the horrific sight.

There was a blinding flash of light. "...we all shall live again... someday..." the ghost's voice whispered.

When the light faded, Edwin, Imoen and Kivan were alone on the hill.


	52. Chapter 51: Minsc's Charge

**Chapter 51: Minsc's Charge**

Autumn was coming to Gullykin. As Ember and Minsc walked through the woods around the village, they passed several trees with yellowing leaves, and there was a certain crispness in the air that hadn't been there since spring.

"How about those?" Ember asked Minsc, and pointed towards a large tuft of grass. Several mushroom hats could be seen between the still green blades.

Minsc kneeled and picked one of the mushrooms. "No, these are not good," he said, holding it out to Ember. "Look! See the black lines of sneaky evil under the hat! This mushroom is up to no good, and would give us all a bellyache!"

"But no worse, right?" Ember said, smiling at Minsc's description. They had found many edible mushrooms so far - almost enough for the stew Alora had promised to cook for them - and the large ranger's lectures about the toxic ones were entertaining as well as informative. He'd compared a white, lethal toadstool a while back to a tattered funeral shroud, and showed her how to look for the shroud on the stem under its hat; and when they found a red and white mushroom she already knew to be poisonous, he said it looked like a backwards rash because it made people backwards in the head.

"But bellyache can be very very bad! Imagine if evil came a-knocking, and all heroes were moaning and groaning from a bad stew? Oh, what a sad day that would be!" Minsc said, and rummaged through the tuft of grass again. "Ah ha!" he exclaimed triumphantly, and held up a small, golden, funnel shaped mushroom. "This one will make a stew fit for heroes!" he said. Ember handed him the mushroom basket, and he eagerly set about filling it with the little delicacies.

"So... we finally meet," someone called out behind them. Startled, Ember turned slowly around. In front of her stood four sneering men; an axe-wielding dwarf, a gnome in a simple robe, a human with a longsword strapped to his belt, and a halfling with a spiked mace at his side.

"Poor little Ember," the human said mockingly, "I assume you're completely clueless as why you must die. I'm sure you've already had problems with an assortment of incompetent bounty hunters. Well, those days are done. Today... you will die."

"Watch what you say, evil men, for Boo will never stand by and watch that happen!" Minsc bellowed. Ember placed a hand on his shoulder and gently restrained him from charging the bounty hunters. The bravado didn't scare Ember - she had heard worse, after all - but for the first time, the bounty hunters outnumbered those on her side. She forced herself to stay calm.

"Who is it that wants me dead? If I am to die, I want to know whose name should be my dying curse," Ember called out to the bounty hunters. Without waiting for the answer, she immediately started to whisper a spell under her breath.

The human laughed. "Do not think we would be so foolish as to betray our master's name," he said. "You may know that I am Molkar, and I am your death. Now, DIE!" Molkar and the dwarf lunged forward just as Ember's spell completed. With lightning speed, the plants around the bounty hunters' feet sprouted long, sinewy tendrils that wrapped around their feet and legs, anchoring them to the ground.

"Run?" Ember suggested quietly to Minsc. If they could make it back to camp, they could get help from Jaheira and Khalid and the villagers.

Minsc gave Ember a confused look. "Boo is good at running, but why would he run when there is evil in need of buttkicking?" A pair of magic missiles flew from the gnome's outstretched hands and struck Ember's side, burning through her leather armour and singeing her flesh. Minsc roared with outrage. "Enough! Evil, meet my sword! Sword, MEET EVIL!" With a bloodcurdling battle cry, he charged at the gnome. Ember bit back the pain in her side and hesitantly followed him, her staff held ready.

The gnome was cut down in moments, and Minsc turned his attention to the dwarf, who was using his axe to cut away the ensnaring plants. Ember headed straight for the halfling; he was chanting a spell of some sort. Ember swung at him with her staff and managed to interrupt him in mid-cast, but she could immediately tell her heart hadn't been in it; the blow was far too weak to injure him. He shook it off, and laughed at her. "Is that all you have, girlie?" he sneered, and drew his mace. She blocked a handful of his vicious blows, but she had had little melee practice against a short opponent, and it was not long before he'd knocked her off her feet with a swift strike to her ankles. As she lay on the ground, struggling not to scream at the excruciating pain in her feet, she heard the halfling intone another spell.

Her limbs froze in place.

She could still breathe, still look around, but every muscle in her frame had locked into place, holding her rigidly in a half upright position, and she couldn't feel a thing. She couldn't even move her mouth. The halfling began casting the same spell again, and there was nothing she could do to warn Minsc. _I failed him,_ she thought miserably as she waited for the inevitable.

The spell hit Minsc in the back. For a moment, the giant ranger stood still, then he turned around and glared at the halfling. His eyes widened at the sight of Ember, laying on the ground. "You will not harm Minsc's charge!" he roared. Something about his entire being shifted as he attacked, as if the human in the armour had been replaced by some feral beast. It was a chilling sight.

_He can't last forever. Not against three trained fighters._ Ember had seen him like this before, when they found Dynaheir dead; he'd ignored all cuts and injuries while the state lasted, but that also meant he'd done nothing to avoid being hit. She waited impatiently for the spell to break its hold on her. It eventually did, and she bit her tongue to avoid screaming at the pain that flooded through her from her battered ankles. _No time._ She reached for her ankles, held them tight, and channeled her innate healing gift into them. Seconds later, she was back on her feet. She ran towards the human fighter, raised her staff, and slammed it into his back with all her might. The blow knocked him off balance, and his sword went wide.

"Come back for more, little girl?" the human snarled. As Ember had intended, he focused on her, leaving Minsc with only two foes. She slammed her staff into his shield and took a few quick steps backwards, moving them both out of the ranger's immediate reach; Minsc would be as likely to attack her as them while he was in this state. He swung at her with his sword, and she blocked it the way Jaheira had showed her, taking care to not catch the blade at an angle that might break her staff.

She'd been wrong, she realized as she charged the man, putting her full force behind every blow she dealt him and using every trick she knew, both the ones she'd just been taught and the ones she could improvise from her prior knowledge of swords. Her fighting was not about her bloodlust, or whether she could avoid giving into it. Nor was it about her fear. It was about doing what was necessary to keep herself and her friends alive, just as it had been when she and Imoen first left Candlekeep. Kill, or be killed.

A few minutes later, as she pulled jagged edges of cut armour away from Minsc's wounds so that she could heal them properly, she glanced at the four bodies around them. The short ones had literally been cut to pieces, and there was blood everywhere. The human lay off to the side. His neck had been twisted far beyond a natural angle, and his mouth and nose were mangled almost beyond recognition. _Whether or not the weapon is bladed makes no real difference in the end, does it?_ she thought, and looked away from the grisly sight.

Her eye caught their mushroom basket, laying under a tree where Minsc had dropped it when they were attacked. The mushrooms were still mostly in it; it looked as if someone had just put the basket down for a little break and would come back and resume picking any moment. "What a day," she muttered, and said a healing prayer over a large gash in Minsc's thigh. The ranger moaned in response.

-.-.-

"The halfling bounty hunter was named Drakar. He had a cousin, Jenkal, in Gullykin," Jaheira told them that evening over a supper of plain stew and bread. "Jenkal's neighbour told us that Drakar had visited three days ago and left in a hurry. We talked to Jenkal, and he immediately confessed, not only that he'd told his cousin that you were here, but also that he had helped kobolds enter the village a few months back."

"Your m-methods are beyond compare, my dear," Khalid said to Jaheira. "Jenkal b-begged to be turned over to the m-mayor," he told Minsc, Ember and Alora with a broad grin.

"Hopping mad, I am!" Alora exclaimed, more irate than they had ever seen her before. "A disgrace for us all, it is! Friends do not do such things!"

"Unfortunately, we aren't dealing with friends," Ember said. "When the others return, I think it's time for us to go back to Baldur's Gate and continue our investigations."

"In your travels, have you been able to discover a reason for this interest in you?" Jaheira asked.

"Well, by now, I think we've become enough of a nuisance to be pursued on the grounds of that alone," Ember said wryly. "However, I still don't know why they wanted me dead in the first place. Maybe you could ask Elminster, but I doubt you'd get a straight answer."

"Elminster?" Khalid said.

"He is a strange old man. The evil wizard doesn't like him," Minsc said.

"He's approached us a few times, dropping hints that don't really explain anything, but he has implied that he knows what is happening," Ember said quietly.

"What exactly has he told you?" Jaheira asked.

"He said that my parentage pursues me. Which could mean that it is a relative who has placed a bounty on me; someone who thinks I might get in their way some day unless I am eliminated." Ember sighed heavily. "However, he also said that I was not normal, and probably suspected that already. Which I did."

Jaheira didn't respond for some time. "Tell me what you know," she finally said.

"There have been dreams. Strange dreams where a cruel voice tries to make me obey, and punishes me when I don't. And after those dreams... I've discovered healing gifts. Kivan and I have talked, and we think they're linked to the dreams and my not obeying. Ajantis - the paladin I told you about - compared it to the blessings paladins receive, but it's not the same."

"C-c-could you s-show us this gift?" Khalid asked.

Ember shook her head. "I can only do it twice a day, and I used it up earlier. But I can tell you that it is drawn from me, not channeled through me like healing from prayers. And it feels different, too; it's like fire instead of water. But the result is the same, and I can do it faster than a prayer."

The older druid frowned deeply. "This is troubling news, and I wish you had told me sooner. Still, it cannot be helped. Will you show me this healing gift tomorrow?"

Ember nodded.

"Good. We shall talk more of this then. For now, I think we all need rest. The hour is late." She and Khalid said their goodnights and left, with Jaheira all but dragging Khalid out of the room behind her. An unusually subdued Alora followed them, leaving Minsc and Ember alone in the room.

"Boo thinks it is good that you told them about this," Minsc said. "He felt bad that Jaheira didn't know you could do that, but he said that you had to be the one to tell her. So Minsc kept quiet."

"I felt a bit bad myself," Ember admitted. "I hope she won't be too upset about it in the morning." _Or too worried._

"Jaheira is wise. She will be happy that you have a secret tool to rub in the face of Evil!"

"I hope you are right," Ember said. "By the way, I wanted to ask you something."

"Little Ember can ask anything she wants!"

"In the woods... why did you call me your charge?"

"Because you are!" Minsc replied. "Minsc pledged his honor to protect little Ember and little Imoen, and Boo promised to help."

"When did this happen?" Ember asked puzzledly.

"When we visited the Peaceman. You were barely a witch then, and little Imoen was not a witch at all, but Boo said that Minsc could renew his dajemma by helping you anyway. And look what happened, how you changed! Now Minsc has two witches! Boo must have known."

Ember smiled. _I doubt I am a witch by the standards of Rashemen, but I don't mind if he thinks so._ "Maybe he did. Either way, I am honored that you chose us, Minsc. And I am certain Imoen is as well." She hugged the beaming ranger goodnight and watched as he sauntered off to his room, the hamster nestled safely in his cupped hands.


	53. Chapter 52: Searching for Answers

**Chapter 52: Searching for Answers**

The following morning was dull and grey, with clouds that promised rain later. The two druids headed to the edge of the forest after breakfast, accompanied by Khalid and Minsc. Jaheira sat down, with crossed legs, on a patch of dry grass,and beckoned for Ember to sit down in front of her; Khalid stood next to Jaheira, watching them both and smiling encouragingly. Minsc, on the other hand, stood a few feet away and scowled menacingly off into the distance, with Boo perched on his shoulder. The hamster's whiskers were quivering with excitement; it looked for all the world like Boo was trying to stand watch along with his owner.

"Are you ready?" Jaheira asked.

"I think so," Ember said. _Will she see the flaw in me?_

"Good. Do not heal me until I stretch out my hand towards you," Jaheira said. She rolled up a sleeve, displaying a slight, yellowish bruise on her lower arm. Ember had given it to her during practice a few days ago; Jaheira had insisted the injury was too light to hamper her, and had chosen to let it heal naturally rather than waste a spell or potion on a trivial thing, as she had put it.

"I won't," Ember said. If she could see something wrong in herself, who knew what Jaheira would be able to see? She watched as the other druid settled into her meditations. Jaheira's posture relaxed, and her face went slack, just like the other times Ember had watched her enter a trance.

Moving as though she was made of lead, Jaheira stretched out her hand. Ember nervously reached out for it, placed her own hands over the bruise, and healed it. Fire coursed through her, the blue radiance of a healing spell enveloped her hands, and Jaheira flinched. Ember immediately let go of the half-elf's hand and moved away from her. _What did she see?!_

"W-wait," Khalid said. "S-she is n-not back with us y-yet." They waited patiently, and it was not long before Jaheira drew a deep breath and opened her eyes.

"Did you learn anything?" Ember asked anxiously.

"Let me catch my breath," Jaheira said. Khalid crouched beside her and took her hand; she squeezed it tight and gave him a brief, reassuring smile. "Some of what I saw was as you told me; it acts exactly like a regular healing spell, and the energy that drives it does come from you," she told Ember. "From what I could tell, it does not deplete you in any way, nor does it impact the Balance, as it would have to if you truly drew such power from nothing. You... you must have a source of power within your very being that allows you to do this."

"Is that source good or bad?" Ember asked.

"Do I look like a paladin?" Jaheira asked wryly. "All I know with absolute certainty is that this spell came from **you**. If anything, I expect it is coloured according to your nature."

"But was there anything at all unnatural about it?" Ember asked doggedly, earning herself an odd look from the older druid.

"Beyond the fact that you can do it at all? No. I saw no unnatural energies in what you did," Jaheira said.

"I saw you flinch."

"You would have flinched as well. In the moment that you healed me, your presence flared like a beacon. You became almost blinding to my heightened awareness. But as soon as the healing spell had entered me, you became as before."

"And what was I before?"

"When you are not drawing upon this gift, you have a perfectly normal, human presence."

Ember picked up a fallen leaf and twirled it between her fingers, not sure if she should feel relieved or disappointed. "Well, now you've seen what I can do," she said. "Do you have any ideas as to why?"

Jaheira hesitated before answering. "Other than the chance that it might tie in with your parentage, there are no theories that would not be speculative. We simply do not know enough, and hazarding wild guesses would not be fruitful, I believe." She stood up and methodically brushed dirt and leaves off her clothes with her hands.

Ember let go of the leaf she'd been holding, and got up from the ground. A gust of wind took hold of the leaf, and it drifted a few feet away before landing on a mossy stone. "So, if we are not going to hazard any wild guesses," she said in a casual tone, wondering if Jaheira might have made some of those already, "I suppose I should try to find out what my parentage is."

"Yes, that is most likely the wisest course of investigation," Jaheira said, "especially since we know of one person who might know the answer."

A bird chirped from a nearby treebranch, almost obscuring the quiet murmuring of Minsc telling Boo about which enemies could be lurking behind the treetrunks.

"Are you seriously suggesting I try to track down Elminster?" Ember finally said.

"No. I am suggesting that Khalid and I attempt to find him."

Ember looked from Jaheira to Khalid and back to Jaheira. "You'd already decided to do this," she said.

"We t-talked about it last night," Khalid said. "You said you wanted to track the ass-s-sassins again, but you are w-welcome to come with us instead, if you like."

"How do you even expect to find him?" Ember asked. "As far as I know, he just pops up out of nowhere and says what he wants, then vanishes again."

"Oh, there are ways," Khalid said with a smile. "You m-may not have known, but Gorion was a Harper..."

-.-.-

The three travellers had returned to Gullykin that afternoon, in the middle of a heavy rainfall. All of them seemed pleased to learn they'd be returning to Baldur's Gate; the two mages were bound to prefer cities to wilderness, and Jaheira had learned that Kivan had a score of his own to settle with someone involved in the plot against Ember.

Alora was the only one who had seemed upset by the news of their departure. Imoen had asked the young halfling if she was sad to leave her relatives, but that was not the problem; she had thought they'd go back to the city without her. Ember and Imoen had allayed Alora's fears on that account, and her mood had immediately reversed; she had talked their ears off about all the fun stuff they'd do when they got back to the city. Jaheira had not been the least bit surprised to hear Kivan mutter that the halfling's chattering would drive them all insane.

Jaheira took a sip of her mulled wine and glanced across the hall. Upon hearing that they would leave the following day, Mayor Luckyfoot had immediately called for a farewell party, and the halfling village had arranged a feast in the winery faster than most humans would have made a simple dinner. There were bright streamers hanging from the ceiling beams, and a long table along one wall held a wide selection of hot and cold dishes; steaks, sausages, fruit, cakes, ale, puddings, and other delicacies. Ember and most of her friends sat around a large table in a corner near the entrance, talking loudly and laughing. Jaheira had walked past them as she fetched her wine, and judging by what she had heard, Ember and Imoen were exchanging tales of their separate adventures. The Red Wizard was rarely far from them; Jaheira only hoped Ember showed discretion in what she shared at the table.

"What are you thinking, my love?" Khalid asked. He sat down on the bench beside her and handed her one of two small pork pies he'd fetched from the long table.

"Thank you, dear. I'm just watching the children," Jaheira said as she accepted the pie. She bit into the hot, savoury morsel and smiled at Khalid. When they first arrived in the village, the mayor's wife, Gerta, had served them these little pies. Jaheira had taken a liking to them, and now Khalid went out of his way to obtain them for her when the opportunity arose.

"What are you thinking?" Khalid asked again as Jaheira brushed the last of the pie crumbs from her hands. She looked at him, then back at Ember's group.

"I wonder if we are doing the right thing," she said. "The Iron Throne is a formidable foe. They could use our assistance in that matter."

"She has c-capable friends. They will be fine, I am sure."

"But will **she** be fine? If our guess is correct..."

"Remember, my dear, you told her n-not to hazard wild guesses. You can't help her unless y-you know what is wrong."

"What if Entillis's people have no idea where Elminster may be?"

"Then we go to Waterdeep and look f-for leads. Don't worry, my love. We'll find him, and we'll get answers."

Jaheira sighed heavily. Ember had declined Khalid's offer of searching for Elminster with them, as Khalid had expected. As much as it concerned her, the girl was determined to continue investigating the assassination plot, and she had also doubted that Elminster would give her any answers. Apparently, they had not parted on the best terms, and Ember didn't think the old wizard would care at all to see her again. _Elminster may mean well, but he's always been too fond of secrecy. And at this point, secrecy can no longer serve her._ "If only we had known Gorion back when he found her," she said. "Maybe he would have let us know who she was and why she's so special, back then."

"I always imagined she was some kind of heiress who had to be kept h-hidden," Khalid said.

"A fine guess, my dear," Jaheira said with a brief smile, "especially if she truly is one of the Children." Again, she looked across the room to the table where Ember sat with her friends, smiling and laughing. The girl was already wearing the new armour her friends had bought for her in Beregost. It was clearly made by a skilled craftsman, and its reddish brown leather was deeply enchanted. It would protect her well. "Her presence **is** human... but it is brighter and stronger than most I have seen. It could be accounted for by her strong will -"

"Which we b-both know she has," Khalid commented.

"- or it could be a sign of her heritage," Jaheira continued. "Evil dreams, bloodlust, gifts of a divine nature and being pursued by her parentage... the one who wants her dead could be a sibling, perhaps. Nothing of what has happened to her contradicts the prophecies."

"H-how could a Bhaalspawn h-heal like that, though?"

"Who knows what can be done with divine blood?" She sighed. "Her ability to use it for good does not mean it could not have such a source, especially since this source did not willingly give it to her. It **is** truly hers, though. I think it is safe for her to use it."

Khalid put an arm around her. "Is she ready for us to part? Has she l-learned enough about the druidic ways?"

"I... think she will manage, for now," Jaheira said. "She has grasped the basics, and she takes the matter very seriously. I was worried about how she'd handle herself in combat, but no longer. And the two rangers will be of immeasurable aid to her."

"Should we tell her what we s-suspect?"

"No. If we are wrong, it could cause her much harm. She is troubled enough already; I do not want to burden her with further concerns."

The halfling musicians began playing a loud, merry tune, and people gathered in the middle of the floor to dance. Imoen and Alora dragged Ember from the table, and soon the three girls had joined a long daisy chain of dancers.

"I don't like leaving her like this," Jaheira said quietly.

"N-neither do I, my love."

-.-.-

The party didn't end until well past midnight. The rain had long stopped; the clouds were being torn apart by a soft breeze, and it was markedly colder than it'd been during the day. There was a chilly edge to the air.

As soon as the burrow was quiet and Imoen was asleep, Ember slipped out of their room and hurried to her meditation spot. They had planned on an early start in the morning, and she knew she should get her rest, but there was something she needed to do first.

She sat down on the pale, damp grass and reached out to her surroundings, listening rather than thinking. When her mind was quiet, she reached within, searching for the flaw she'd seen a few nights ago. It did not take long to find it; it seemed to be at the root of her being. The vibrant nimbus still obscured most of it, and almost seemed to cage it.

Struggling to maintain the trance, she focused her attention on the nimbus that surrounded the flaw. There was no wrongness to that, no alienness. It belonged to her, not to the flaw, she realized. _Could it be...?_ She let herself become aware of her hands and of the latent gifts she held within her without leaving the trance or losing her focus, and commanded the fiery energy to heal a minor cut on the back of her hand.

The blinding rush of sensations knocked her forcefully out of the trance, and she fell backwards. After a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes and looked up at the autumn sky. Her head hurt terribly, but it was worth it.

"The gifts don't come from the flaw. They come from its cage," she told the stars above.


	54. Chapter 53: Clear as Mist

**Chapter 53: Clear as Mist**

"Shaella sees through the mists of the Lady that you are strong and worthy adventurers," a cowled, husky-voiced woman said as Ember and her companions entered the Blade and Stars inn. Khalid and Jaheira were no longer with them; they had parted at the gates to the inner city less than half an hour earlier. The next step for Ember's group was to contact Commander Scar, but it was a cold, windy afternoon, and everyone was eager for a hot meal before going to the Fist headquarters.

"Shaella sees very clearly!" Minsc replied. "Did you hear that, Boo? Strange ladies see that we are heroes!"

The 'strange lady' lowered her head slightly, letting her face vanish even deeper into the cowl of her dull, rust-coloured robes. "Shaella sees not clearly but dimly, ever peering through the mists of Leira."

"(An eye condition, perhaps. That would certainly explain her wardrobe,)" Edwin muttered.

"Minsc does not see any mist," Minsc said in a bewildered tone, glancing at the corners of the inn.

"Stare deep into the Mistshadow, and mark your devotion to Leira, Mistress of Mists and Lady of the Unknowing," Shaella said. "Stare into it and know that knowledge is unknowable."

Ember started to move towards the Leiran, wanting to interrupt the disturbing conversation, but Imoen held her back. "Wait," Imoen said in a low voice.

"Boo is confused," Minsc said. "If you know that you know nothing, then you **do** know something. How can this be?"

"More or less precisely my point."

"Boo says that that is not a point. He says you are just trying to confuse him with words. Boo wonders why a pretty lady like you doesn't want to talk about real things," Minsc said, holding the hamster protectively in his palm.

For a moment, the woman seemed to be at a loss for words. "Insolence!" she cried. "Begone, all who seek to dispel the mists of Leira!" She gathered her robes around her and stormed out of the inn.

"Did Minsc upset the strange lady?" Minsc asked.

"I think she just confused herself," Imoen said, patting the large ranger's arm.

"You and Boo did great, you did!" Alora exclaimed.

Minsc beamed happily at his friends. "People should talk about proper things," he said, "things like swords, and food, and honour, and how soft and fuzzy the belly of a happy hamster is. Right, Boo?"

Grinning, Ember looked around the room in search of a table large enough for all six of them. Things did not look promising; most of the tables were barely large enough for four, and a lot of them appeared to be rickety as well as filthy.

The man at the nearest table was staring at her.

He was an elderly man, with thinning hair and a weary, wrinkled face, but his eyes were alert and bright as a youngster's. "You..." he said hoarsely, "are a light entering darkness. You... are a seeker of truths. You... are more than you realize."

Ember involuntarily took a step backwards.

"The Seer has spoken it because the Seer knows the fear you harbour, the fear you shall yet become," the man continued.

"What do you want?" she asked warily.

"In the lair of the basilisk, you will find a sphene gem... You would do well to bring it to me."

"A basilisk?"

"When you are ready, it will come to you," the man said, and turned his attention towards the mug of what appeared to be water that stood before him. He tapped its side, creating ripples on the surface of the mug. He studied the ripples as intently as he had studied Ember only a few moments earlier.

Ember shook her head slowly in disbelief and turned back to her friends. "Why don't we find another inn?" she suggested.

-.-.-

"Did the insanity level of this town increase while we were away, or was I just fortunate enough to avoid the worst of it before? (Come to think of it, there was that elf, the Halruuan, the child poisoner, Elminster... I suppose it always was like this,)" Edwin growled as they left Ye Olde Inn. What had awaited them there had been even worse than in the Blade and Stars; four green slimes were in the kitchen, terrorizing the staff and customers alike. Ember and her friends helped kill the slimes and attend to the bartender, who had been hit by their ooze and barely survived. As a customer told them, a local mage named Ramazith had been arguing with the bartender about something. The mage had lost his temper, summoned the creatures, and stormed out of the inn.

"We'll eat at the Elfsong after we talk to Scar. We should be used to the insanity of that inn, right?" Imoen said, patting Edwin's shoulder. The wizard nodded distractedly.

The Flaming Fist headquarters were but a short walk from Ye Olde Inn, and it was not long before they were waiting for Scar in one of the many windowless chambers inside the Fist building. The commander looked weary when he arrived, escorted by a junior Fist soldier, but he seemed genuinely pleased to see Ember's group again.

"It's good to see you again!" Scar exclaimed. "I hope your journeys have been fruitful?"

"They have," Kivan said. "Have you any news for us?"

"Unfortunately, there have been no tangible developments with regards to the Iron Throne. We discovered another doppelganger infiltration, though, in the Merchant's League. Notes were found, sketching the takeover plan, but there were no names," Scar told them as he wrote a brief message on a piece of parchment. He handed the message to the junior soldier, who bowed deeply and hurried out of the chamber.

Alora gasped. "Poor merchants! Were they all taken?" she asked.

"Not all of them," Scar said, "but many were lost. However, one of their leaders died in a hunting accident recently, and the other two were away for his funeral when this takeover happened, so they live still. In fact, they have entered talks with Jhasso of the Seven Suns; the two costers will work together to maintain business while they rebuild."

"So some semblance of free trade is maintained, despite the Iron Throne's tactics," Ember said.

"Now, now, we have no proof that they engaged the doppelgangers," Scar said. "But on to other matters. Things have been unstable in town these past weeks. There are more and more rumours that Amn is preparing for war, and a string of kidnappings has unnerved people. We tracked down the ogre mage that was responsible for **that** only yesterday, in the sewers. As you understand, my resources have been spread thin, and I would have your assistance once again. Ah, come in," he said, beckoning to the junior soldier, who had reappeared in the doorway. The youngster hurried in with a piece of parchment, which he handed to Scar with a deep bow. The commander read the message as the soldier left the room.

"My commander, Grand Duke Eltan, has expressed an interest in meeting with all of you. It has to do with your previous involvement with the Iron Throne. My note was to inform him that you have returned to town, and this note requests that you meet with him here tomorrow at midday," Scar said, gesturing at the note he'd just received. "What shall I tell the Duke?"

"We will come," Kivan said.

"Good, good," Scar said, his face relaxing into a smile. "Meet me here at the noonday bell, and I will take you to his chambers. We will talk more then, and hopefully, we will all benefit."

"Until tomorrow, then," Kivan said, clasping hands with the commander.

"Aye, until tomorrow," Scar said.

They made their farewells and headed out of the Fist headquarters. The wind had died down somewhat, but it was still cold, and Minsc informed them that Boo had a rumbly belly. They were busily discussing what to order once they arrived at the Elfsong when they saw a dozen men and women run screaming out of a nearby warehouse.

"Run away! Run away! There's a basilisk loose! Get out while you're still able!" someone screamed.

_A basilisk? Just like that 'Seer' said..._ Ember hurried towards the warehouse entrance, where a very nervous halfling was struggling with the lock. "How did a basilisk get into a warehouse in the center of the city?" she asked him.

"Gorpel Hind and his adventuring band, the Merry Fools, captured the beast a week ago," the halfling said, not taking his eyes off the door. "It was to be transported to Waterdeep - what they were going to do with it there, I know not - and now it's woken up from its magical slumber before it was supposed to! Two of my workers have become statues!"

"Is there anything that can be done?" Ember asked.

The halfling looked at her for the first time, then over her shoulder at the rest of the group. "More adventurers, eh? Can you kill such a beast?"

"We can," Ember said.

"Be my guests, then," the halfling said as he undid the lock. "Don't trap it, just kill the thing. I will not have such dangerous merchandise on my property, no matter the pay!" He withdrew the key and ran up the street.

"We must plan this before we enter," Kivan said.

"We have two potions of Mirrored Eyes," Imoen said. "How about you and Minsc drink them and draw its attention? The rest of us can attack it from afar."

"A good plan," Kivan said.

"What about Boo?" Minsc asked.

"I can hold him for you, if you don't mind," Imoen said.

"Minsc does not mind, and Boo does not mind, either!"

The fight did not last long. With eyes that glowed like silver pools from the potion, the two rangers entered the warehouse ahead of the others. The basilisk was wandering around inside, randomly smashing crates, but was soon distracted when Kivan and Minsc attacked it with hammer and sword. Ember and Alora used their slings, Imoen and Edwin used their spells, and the creature was dead within a minute.

"Poor thing," Alora said, patting the dead basilisk's head. "It probably just wanted to go home."

"But where would home be, and who would take it there?" Ember asked as she searched a large, hay-filled crate, which appeared to be the crate the basilisk had been in.

"It is better off dead than captive," Kivan said.

"It'd be better off if it'd never been captured at all," Ember said. Something glinted in a corner of the crate. She reached in and picked up the small, smooth object; it glowed in dull, mottled greens in the faint light in the warehouse. It was a beautifully cut sphene gem.

-.-.-

The road to the Blade and Stars was only a small detour away. Ember went there, only accompanied by Kivan, while the rest headed to the Elfsong to order a longed-for dinner for all of them. The Leiran had not returned, but the seer was still there, sitting in the exact same place as when they had left.

"The sphene gem!" the seer cried, visibly pleased, as Ember placed the gemstone on the table before him. "Indeed, then... you are more than you appear." He gestured to her to come closer.

"Someday," he said in a very low voice as he gazed deeply into her eyes, "you must journey further through the muck and mire of this place, for it will tell you as much or more than all of fabled Candlekeep... Like yourself, this city is more than it appears. There are cities below cities, dreams beneath dreams, the past laying buried beneath the crushing weight of the present... Go now, wanderer, for the time will come when you must walk through the darkness to find the light." The seer sat back, an exhausted look on his face.

"Thank you," Ember said quietly. What he had said made little sense, but somehow it felt like she had been told something useful and comforting. _And at least he didn't shrink away from me or run away in a panic, like that palm reader we once met._

She smiled at Kivan. "Let's go get dinner," she said. The ranger theatrically offered her his hand, and escorted her out of the inn.


	55. Chapter 54: Appearances

**Chapter 54: Appearances**

The wind settled during the night, and the following day brought sunshine and a pleasant warmth. The sun shone through the small, stained windows in the main chamber of the Fist headquarters, creating beams of light in the heavy air and painting mottled patterns of gold where it touched the stone walls. Ember and her friends had arrived early; while they waited for Commander Scar, Imoen amused herself with tracking one of the golden squares as it moved across the wooden table they had been seated at.

At the first chime of the noon bell, Scar came down a winding staircase in the corner of the main chamber. "Ah, here already? Excellent," he called out. "The Grand Duke awaits you in his office. Follow me."

The commander led them up the narrow staircase to a smaller chamber. It was sparsely furnished, and two doors led away from the room. A tall man in gleaming armour stood in one of the doorways.

"Let me introduce you to Grand Duke Eltan, one of the lords of the city; commander of the Flaming Fist and member of the Lord's Alliance," Scar said, a note of pride in his voice.

"I am glad to see that you have come," Duke Eltan said with a broad smile. Ember immediately liked the man. "If you would follow me, we may talk more comfortably," the duke said, and led them all through one of the doors into what had to be the duke's meeting room. The room was dominated by a large table, surrounded by a dozen chairs. The walls were completely covered with bookshelves except where the torch sconces were, and daylight drifted in through several small windows of the kind they'd seen below. A bowl of fruit stood on the table.

"Please, be seated," the duke said. He waited until everyone had taken a seat before he continued. "Now, I know that such a meeting is unusual, but in these circumstances it is necessary. From what I have been told, you have been quite a thorn in the side of the Iron Throne."

"About as much as they have been in mine," Ember said.

"You must be Ember, then," the duke said, leaning forwards across the table. "I am interested in you, because of the obvious hatred that they hold for you. I never trusted the evidence that placed the blame for the recent caravan raids and iron shortage on the Zhentarim; it was far too easy to blame them, and they would not have much to profit, while the Iron Throne had everything to gain. Your testimony about the Throne's intent merely cemented my suspicions."

"So what are you going to do about them?" Imoen asked.

The duke sighed. "Unfortunately, my hands are tied; I can't act against the Iron Throne until I have hard evidence of their wrongdoing."

"And all we have is hearsay, right?" Imoen said.

"Correct. If hard evidence is to be found anywhere, I'd expect it to be in the Iron Throne headquarters. A small group - preferably with no known connection to the Fist - could break into their headquarters and search for such proof," Duke Eltan said, looking at each of Ember's companions in turn as he spoke. "If you do this for me you'll be paid extremely well; two thousand gold to divide among yourselves. What is your answer?"

Minsc looked up from the apple slivers he'd been feeding Boo. "Minsc and Boo need no gold when there is evil that needs buttkicking!" he cried.

"(The lumbering oaf may speak for himself, but not for me,)" Edwin muttered. "It is a foolish endeavour, but I suppose it is the next logical step. I do expect you to reimburse any expenses we may incur from this, of course."

"That can be arranged," the duke said with a small grin.

"We can do this, I just know it!" Alora chirped. "Oh, it'll be fun!"

Kivan, Ember and Imoen exchanged amused glances. "Looks like we're doing this," Imoen said. "Consider us hired!"

"You have made a wise decision! It is a difficult mission that I give you, but I am sure that you have the wherewithal to make it through," Duke Eltan said. "Return and report to me once you feel you have enough information to use against the Iron Throne."

"If there is anything useful there, we will find it," Ember said.

The duke smiled. "Of that, I have no doubt."

-.-.-

After the audience with Duke Eltan, Ember and her companions headed into the inner city. It was time for a midday meal, and several of the Flaming Fist soldiers had recommended the food served at the Blushing Mermaid. It was a rather long walk, and the inn was in one of the seedier parts of town, but the soldiers assured them that the spiced meat pies were more than worth the trip.

"I can't say I look forward to breaking into the Iron Throne," Ember said. "Who knows what we'll be up against?"

"You know, I've been thinking about that. We don't have to just barge in," Imoen said. "We could try to be a bit sneaky this time instead."

"Oh?"

"We could pretend we were supposed to be there! Disguise ourselves as merchants, or something. I mean, they must have real guests all the time, right?"

Ember smiled. "You're right."

"Me and Alora could watch the place for a bit first, you know, to see how to fit in, and we could all wear important-looking clothes!"

"I think I'd need a better disguise than just clothes, though," Ember pointed out. "There is bound to be someone there who would recognize me."

"Nothing could be more important-looking than my robes," Edwin said, brushing an invisible speck of dust off his sleeve.

"But Eddie," Imoen said, "you know that someone like you in a robe like that all but screams 'Red Wizard', right?"

"Yes, I am aware of that effect." Edwin said testily. "(Especially because it is intentional. How else would the barbarian rabble know when their betters approach? She really is surprisingly dense some days.)"

"Good! Are you aware that the Iron Throne probably knows that Ember travels with a Red Wizard, as well?"

Edwin opened and closed his mouth a few times. "(I don't see why I should have to disguise my glorious nature at all,)" he eventually muttered.

"Oh, it'll be just like a game, Eddie!" Alora exclaimed. "Just wait and see!"

"They probably know about all of us, except possibly Alora," Imoen added, "so we should all try to look different."

"Minsc does not know how to speak like merchants, and Boo cannot do it for me," Minsc said in a low voice.

"Then you can be our armoured guard," Ember said. "You won't have to speak at all while we're pretending." A relieved smile spread across the large ranger's face.

"I refuse to wear armour!" Edwin declared. "(I will not allow them to hamper my abilities like that!)"

"Of course not, Eddie. We'll find something else for you and me," Imoen said. "I have some ideas..."

Several ideas for disguises were tossed around as they walked up the last few streets towards the Blushing Mermaid, and the conversation didn't end until they reached the door of the inn. As Kivan reached out for the handle, a hulking figure rose under the shadow of the eaves. It stepped out into the sunlight and moved towards them, revealing itself as a very tall, skinny ogre, dressed in red and black rags and holding a very large club. Ember instinctively shifted her grip on her staff to a more battle-ready position.

"Huurm," the ogre said, "I be Larze. You be Ember of Candlekeep. Don't try deny it. You should not have come to Baldur's Gate. You given many warning before, but you ignore them. Now you must pay. Sorry, but Larze must kill."

"Why do you think she is Ember of Candlekeep?" Alora asked. "I heard that Ember of Candlekeep is a great big warrior with flaming eyes and a roaring voice and that she can knock anyone down with one hit! I'd be too scared to be around her, I would!"

"Huh? But she must be Ember of Candlekeep," Larze said, gesturing with a massive hand at Ember. "Me see picture, and it look like her. It had no fire eyes or big voice. Though pictures don't have voices. Hmmmmm, I confused."

"Do you have this picture with you?" Ember asked in a pleasant tone. _Roaring voice, indeed,_ she thought amusedly.

The ogre slowly pulled a matted and torn scroll from his bag. He unrolled it and thrust it in Ember's face. "See? Is this not you?"

Ember took the picture from Larze. It was a very detailed sketch made with black ink, showing Ember in her old chainmail and with her sword drawn. She had to admit it was a rather good likeness. "I can see why you mistook me for her; we do resemble each other. She looks like a skilled swordswoman," she said to the ogre.

"Yes. They warn Larze. They say to me, do not let her cut you. Squish her first."

"That sounds like good advice," Ember said. "But you see, I am a druid. I don't have a sword, and I am not even allowed to use one."

"Druid?"

"Yes. See, I have a staff, and no chainmail."

The ogre scratched his head. "Then you really not her, me think. Too bad. Tazok will not be pleased." Out of the corner of her eye, Ember saw Kivan flinch slightly; thankfully, Larze didn't seem to notice the elf's reaction. "Him sure that Ember of Candlekeep was in town," the ogre continued thoughtfully.

"She could be somewhere else," Ember suggested.

"Yes. Larze go look now! Bye bye," Larze said, and walked off into a narrow alley with his club slung over his shoulder.

"And **that** is why we need disguises," Ember said as soon as the ogre was out of sight.


	56. Chapter 55: Taking Chances

**Chapter 55: Taking Chances**

Imoen and Alora sat on a low wall outside the Iron Throne complex, idly swinging their legs back and forth. It was a warm, sunshiny day, and they'd done much better than expected with their simple disguises; dressed in plain tunics, plain leggings, and cowled hoods that completely covered their distinctive hair, nobody in the complex had suspected that the two girls were not the messengers they pretended to be. They had been barred from the upper floor, of course, but they'd learned quite a bit from some of the chattier guards, as well as from the messages a few merchants had asked them to deliver.

Now all they needed was a good meal.

"The Low Lantern would probably be closest, but I don't want seafood," Imoen said.

"And smells bad there, it does!" Alora said. "Across town we can go; I am not tired at all!"

"Well, how about some of those pies from the Blushing Mermaid?" Imoen suggested with an impish grin. Alora immediately burst into a fit of giggles.

As they had all discovered last night, the mermaid had good reason to blush; the inn was decorated with a lot of deep red curtains and naughty paintings, and by the sound of it, there were revelers both upstairs and downstairs from the common room. They had ordered the spiced meat pies from a serving girl with a large chest in a too small blouse. At that point, Ember had been a bit worried about what the pies might be like, but when the food arrived, it seemed just fine; the spices were a bit unusual, but a pleasant warmth had spread through Imoen from the very first bite.

After the third bite, Imoen had started to feel a bit restless, and Edwin, still on his first mouthful, had announced that at least four of the spices were known aphrodisiacs. Alora, who had scarfed down almost a third of a pie, had turned beet red and shoved the dish away from her with both hands. They had left the partially eaten pies behind and gone to the Elfsong for a safer meal, but Imoen had felt antsy the entire evening, and Alora hadn't been able to sleep until well past midnight.

"How did Eddie know about the spices?" Alora asked as soon as she stopped giggling.

"Well, you know what they say about Thayvians, right?" Imoen said.

"What do they say?"

"Oh, that they're as redblooded as their robes, that they know all about lovemaking, that they spend time with gasping concubines... at least, that's what Eddie says. I haven't met any other Thayvians, so he just might be exaggerating," Imoen said with a small grin.

Alora's mouth became an O. "Dappled dancing donkeys!" she exclaimed. "But..."

"But what?"

"He never really acts like that, does he? Confused, am I!"

Imoen shrugged. "I don't think he likes the courtesans here. 'Barbaric simians, all of them'," she said, imitating Edwin's accent. "I heard him compare a courtesan to a cow once, you know."

Alora burst into another fit of giggles, and was still laughing when Imoen saw a young boy come running up the street. He looked to be about thirteen, and he was crying his eyes out.

"Heya!" Imoen called out to the boy, who stopped abruptly in front of them. His scrunched up face was the most miserable thing Imoen had seen in a long time. "What's wrong?" she asked gently.

"I... we... oh, everything!" the boy wailed.

"There, there, it'll be all right," Alora said, patting the boy's hand.

"No, it won't!" the boy all but shouted.

"If you calm down and tell us what's wrong, maybe we can help," Imoen said.

The boy drew a deep breath and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve. "M-my name is Varci," he said. "Casson and I were just fooling around. We didn't mean any harm!"

"Of course not," Imoen said. "What happened?"

"We just wanted to look at the pools at the Water Queen's house. We snuck in, but they saw us and chased us and Casson slipped and fell in the water. He's dead!" Varci burst into tears. Alora cried out in dismay and wrapped her arms around the boy's legs.

"They took him inside," Varci continued between sobs. "I asked them to give me his body, but they just glared at me and carried him away."

"The Water Queen, would that be Umberlee?" Imoen asked.

Varci nodded. "If only I had his body, I could try to make things right, but they are priestesses and I am just a boy. I can't do anything."

"Maybe I can," Imoen said.

-.-.-

The temple of Umberlee had no real floor. Instead, there was a large pool of water, crisscrossed by walkways. The air inside was cool, and blue reflections from the pool played across the marble walls. Imoen involuntarily pulled her cowl closer.

"Scared, am I," Alora whispered.

"It'll be all right. Just let me do the talking," Imoen said. _Not that I really want to, either._

One of the blue-robed priestesses approached them. "For what purpose do you visit the Bitch Queen?" she demanded.

Imoen cleared her throat. "We wish to see the priestess Tenya," she said, trying to sound as severe as the priestess. _Please please please let her be here already!_

"Tenya? Wait here and I will get her for you," the priestess said, and strode off. Imoen breathed a quiet sigh of relief and lowered her hood so that her face and hair would be fully visible.

A few minutes later, the priestess returned with a young girl in blue robes in tow.

"Hi, Tenya," Imoen said, raising a hand and waving slightly, "remember me?"

"Yes, I remember you," the girl said. "The Mother and I expected to see some of you again at some point. I suppose you wish to collect some sort of payment, hmmm?" The other priestess wandered off down a walkway, no doubt to tend the water or something like that.

"Er, yes," Imoen said. "but I don't want money, or anything like that. There is a boy who came here and was killed. I just want his body back. If you'll give it to me, we'll be even."

Tenya snorted with amusement. "You do not ask for much, do you?" she said, and walked off in the direction of the other priestess. They talked quietly for a while, then Tenya returned.

"You may have him. I warrant you will try to resurrect him, but the lesson is learned. Death changes one, especially one so young. I know of this like no other," the young priestess said as she led Imoen and Alora down one of the walkways.

"Resurrect?" Alora whispered to Imoen.

"Maybe Varci knows a way," Imoen whispered back. They stopped outside a small alcove, and she glanced inside.

The body of a boy, around ten years old, lay on a slab of marble. His eyes and mouth were open, and his skin had a deathly blue pallor. Imoen couldn't tell if it the colour was all his own, or if the cold light inside the temple made him look even bluer. She covered her mouth with her hand.

"Take the child, and go," Tenya said.

Cringing, Imoen walked into the alcove and lifted the body up from the marble slab. He felt cold as ice, and was much heavier than she expected. Alora hurried in behind her and lifted the boy's legs, and together they managed to maneuver the body out of the alcove. The walkways bobbed gently up and down beneath their feet as they carried the boy to the main door.

"Our score is settled," Tenya said at the temple gate. "Leave, and never darken these halls again... unless summoned!" She walked back into the temple and closed the gates behind her, leaving Imoen and Alora alone on the street with the dead boy.

"Now what?" Alora asked wearily.

Imoen looked around; there was no sight of Varci. "Varci?" she called out. The boy immediately stood up from behind a barrel across the street.

"You got him back!" Varci cried out. "I may yet repair the damage I have caused!"

"Do you know someone who might resurrect him?" Imoen asked.

"His father is Lord Priest Tremain Belde'ar of the church of Tymora," Varci explained. "If anyone can bring Casson back, he can."

"Why were you so worried, then? They would have let his father have him, I am sure!" Alora said.

The boy shook his head. "A Lord Priest of Tymora cannot ask for trivial favours from the church of Umberlee. There'd be all kinds of complications, even if the other priests were to allow it."

_Trivial?_ Imoen shook her head. "Let's just get him to his father, then. Where is he?"

"He'll be in the temple, near the Hall of Wonders," Varci said.

Imoen frowned. "I'm not sure we can carry his body that far, unless you're stronger than you look," she told Varci.

"Hm... I suppose I'd better bring his father here, then. Will... will you wait here with Casson?" Varci asked.

"Of course!" Alora said.

"I'll go fetch him. I won't be long! He... he doesn't know yet," Varci said with a worried frown.

"Just hurry back," Imoen said. Varci thanked her nervously, burst into fresh tears, and ran up the street towards the inner city.

While Alora cried softly, Imoen looked at the body. It was strange, being so close to a dead child; strange and unpleasant and somehow familiar. She didn't like it one bit. "Let's get him into the shade," she told Alora. Together, they carried the boy to a bench on the north side of a wall. The boy's eyes were still open; Imoen ran her hand across his face and gently closed his eyelids. It helped a bit, but not enough. She took off her cowl and used it to cover his face.

An eternity of a half hour later, Varci returned with a man in silver and blue robes. "Casson!" the man cried out, and kneeled beside the bench. "Oh Casson..." Imoen and Alora backed away while Tremain cried over his son.

After a while, the priest stood up and wiped his eyes. "I must bring his body home, that I might restore his life to him - if Our Smiling Lady wills it," he told Imoen and Alora. "Varci told me what you have done. If you would come with us, I will reward you whether I am able to revive him or not."

"I just want to know if he'll be all right," Imoen said.

"Me too!" Alora added.

The priest was a strong man. He scooped the boy up in his arms and carried him through the streets to the inner city as easily as he would a feather. He was a fast man, too; Imoen had some difficulty keeping up, and Alora had to outright run as they followed him to a small brick house. Varci opened the door and led them all inside.

"The moment has come. Please, no noise. I must concentrate," the priest said. Varci stood quietly next to Imoen, looking very sad and pitiful. She reached out and squeezed his hand, smiling encouragingly. A smaller hand reached out for her other hand, and she squeezed that as well. Standing like that, holding Varci's hand on one side and Alora's hand on the other, Imoen watched with rapt attention as the priest proceeded with the resurrection. It was a lengthy, complicated spell, involving a lot of words and a small bag of diamonds, and when it was done, Tremain sagged with exhaustion.

Nothing happened. Seconds passed, and all Imoen could hear was the pounding of her own pulse. Then, Casson coughed.

"Blessed be Our Smiling Lady! He lives!" the priest cried. "Son, can you hear me?"

"Father, I... what's going on?" the boy asked. He was still pale, but he was no longer blue, and the strangeness of death was completely gone from his face. Imoen felt like a heavy weight was lifted from her chest.

"Oh my dear dear boy..." Tremain said, "you are IN SUCH TROUBLE! What in all the planes were you thinking, child?! So help me, if turning you over my knee wouldn't kill you outright, you'd jump black to go right to blue!"

"What... but... but it wasn't my faul..." the boy protested. Varci let go of Imoen's hand and shrank back against a wall as if he wanted to be invisible, which he probably did.

"Oh no you don't! If you want to play the odds, you had best be sure you take responsibility for yourself! The Goddess of Luck and Adventure does not endorse DUMB luck or foolish risks! I swear, if your mother were alive to hear about this she'd drop dead where she stood, and THEN I'd have to raise her TOO! Do you have any idea what this spell takes out of a person?!"

"But I... we... I'm sorr..." the boy started as his father cast a healing spell on him.

"Not another word, young man!" Tremain said, pointing sternly towards the stairs. "You're off to your room and see if I let you out before you're four score and twenty! March!"

"But... I... aw..." Casson mumbled as he trudged up the stairs.

"Varci," the priest said, turning towards the other boy, "thank you for your part in salvaging this situation. I expect you to tell your father about what happened today - and I will know if you do not! - and I will leave your punishment to him."

"Yes, sir," Varci said nervously. "Thank you so much for your help!" he told Imoen and Alora, and bolted out the door.

"I don't think I've seen him walk at a normal pace at all," Imoen remarked. "I'm so glad everything turned out all right!" she told Tremain.

The priest smiled. "Words cannot express my gratitude to you," he said. "Many a Tymoran will look favorably on you for what you have done today."

"Happy to help, we were!" Alora exclaimed.

"Still, I must insist upon rewarding you. There must be something I can do for you; name it, and I will do my best to fulfil your wishes!" the priest said.

Imoen and Alora exchanged glances. "There is one thing, I suppose," Imoen said.

"What is that?" the priest asked.

"Hungry, we are! What's for lunch?" Alora asked with a broad grin.

Tremain laughed. "My larder is all yours!"


	57. Chapter 56: Abela

**Chapter 56: Abela**

A large crowd had assembled outside the Sorcerous Sundries, forming a wide circle around two burnt and charred bodies that lay near the store's doorstep. Ember, Kivan, Minsc and Edwin arrived just as the bodies were being covered with old sheets and laden onto a cart.

"What happened here?" Ember asked.

"That's Arkion and Nemphre, that is!" a peasant woman replied. "They were lovers, once, but it ended badly."

"Aye. They was always fightin'. He said he wanted her ring, an' she said she wanted his amulet," a gruff-voiced man added.

"Love turned to hate, as it were," the woman said.

"They had a duel this mornin', right here in the street," the man said, "an' blew each other up."

"It's such a sad story. I hope they will be at peace now," the woman said.

The man shrugged. "It'll be peaceful around here, at least."

The cart was slowly pulled away by a pair of donkeys, and the crowd began to disperse.

"A shocking waste of talent. You agree, do you not?" a man with a smooth, oddly accented voice asked behind Ember. She turned and found herself face to face with an elderly man with a tanned and wrinkled face, silvery hair, and blood red robes.

"I suppose so," she said. "I did not know them."

"I understand perfectly. You be not from here, after all," the man said. "You and your compatriots be so obviously... well... I just say you no look like farmers or merchants." His accent had strong similarities to Edwin's, Ember noticed; he had to be yet another Red Wizard. She glanced at Edwin, who looked like he had just swallowed something foul-tasting.

"Yes, we have travelled," Ember said lightly.

"Allow me to be introduced. I am Ramazith!" he proclaimed.

_He's the one who filled that tavern with green slimes the other day, isn't he?_ "Pleased to meet you," Ember lied.

"I've a service needing completion, and it require that which I think you have. I reward well. Interested, yes?"

"What is this service?" Ember asked.

"My proposition is thus; I would have you enter into the home of a colleague of mine, and effect the release of a creature he has imprisoned there," Ramazith said. "Ragefast be his name, and he has in his possession one of the most beautiful and useful creatures in all of Faerun. It be a nymph he captured some time ago. I know not what laughable plans he has for her, but I am sure she be more... productive in my care. I would go myself, but none know better how to defend against a wizard than another wizard. This require stealth and guile, or quick blade with muscle behind. You have; I lack. Simple, no?"

A nymph! Ember's mind reeled. She could think of a few reasons why a mage might want to have one, and none of them were pleasant. "Where does this Ragefast live?" she asked.

"Most agreeable!" the mage exclaimed. "Already you show intelligence needed to succeed! You will find Ragefast's home just west of the Hall of Wonders. It is in a small and ugly tower. We meet at my home when you complete your your task, yes? Do not tarry, for I have many plans." Ramazith bowed briefly and scurried off towards his tower.

"Boo does not trust this evil wizard," Minsc said.

"I fear he plans to use the nymph for spell components," Kivan said.

"(Of course he does!)" Edwin muttered.

"We cannot be part of such a deed," Kivan continued.

"We're not going to," Ember said. "We're going to free her from Ragefast." She turned and looked at Edwin. "You know Ramazith, don't you?"

"Why would you think that?" the wizard asked.

"I saw the look on your face. You looked even more upset than you did when we met the Red Wizards at that temple ruin in the forest."

"I was not upset!"

"Edwin, what do you know about Ramazith?"

"Ramazith is... my competitor," the wizard said between clenched teeth. "We have been assigned the same task. He is an inept fool who believes that greater age implies greater competence, and he would go to great lengths to impede my progress if given half a chance."

"And would this task have something to do with why there are so many Red Wizards around in general?" Ember asked.

"I will forgive your impudence in prying," the wizard huffed, "and you will content yourself with knowing that the Red Wizards of Thay are not involved in any of the petty schemes in this region. As for my task, it is a matter of personal advancement. (I swear, she is almost as annoying as Imoen!)"

Ember decided to let the matter lie, and other than Minsc's quiet chatter with Boo about the differences between evil wizards, they made their way across town to the Hall of Wonders in silence. Ragefast's home was easily identifiable; while it wasn't quite as tall as Ramazith's tower, its spire loomed over the surrounding houses. It had whitewashed walls and a thatch roof, and would almost have looked cozy if not for the large mechanical contraption that stuck out of one side of the tower. Ember hesitated outside the door; for all they knew, it could be trapped, and for all they knew, Ramazith might have been lying about the nymph. She was about to suggest that they go find Imoen and Alora before they tried to enter when they heard a pleading female voice through the walls.

"Listen, Boo! A damsel in distress, but not for long now that Minsc and Boo are here! Evil, watch your buttocks, for HERE COMES MY BOOT OF JUSTICE!" Minsc cried as he kicked in the door and stormed into the tower.

The entrance didn't appear to be trapped, and the others followed Minsc into a large chamber with multiple gadgets. A middle-aged mage in golden robes and a stunningly beautiful woman stood in the middle of the room, apparently in the middle of an argument. The woman was dressed in nothing but a gauzy wrap of shimmery blue fabric, and a delicate silver chain, held by the mage, was attached to a collar around her neck. There was a frailness to her beauty, almost as if she were a fine porcelain statue that'd shatter if she were touched, but it was still almost unbearable to look at her.

"What!? What bandit dares enter the home of Ragefast?! Identify your purpose here, that I might know what to put on thy tombstone!" the mage bellowed.

"Minsc and Boo and our Boots of Justice have come to teach you how to be nice to ladies!" Minsc shouted, waving his sword.

Ragefast stepped away from the giant ranger. "What nonsense is this?! Explain yourself!"

"We heard you were holding a nymph captive, and now we see it is true," Ember said. "How dare you commit such an atrocity?"

"No!" the mage shouted. "This wondrous being is my love and life! I would be hers as well, but it takes time! She will grow to care for me, as I her!"

"You do not cage those you care for," Kivan said. "You may break her spirit, and she will serve you, but this is not love."

"She will learn to be happy here!" Ragefast insisted. "We shall grow old together."

"Look unto me, Ragefast," the nymph said. "My beauty fades even now."

"Abela, thy beauty is as brilliant now as the day I found you. Say not such things!" the mage said.

The nymph shook her head. "'Tis flattering, but you are blinded by your passion. Truly see what is become of me. I should not age, but my spirit fades in this ugly place. Yours does as well, but from obsession over me."

"But we were meant for each other! Thy very words had said so!" Ragefast cried.

"In my glade, amidst the stars and moon," Abela said. "'Twas beauty in that, but I cannot be confined with thee. I am not human, and this is not my home."

"But this is MY home..." Ragefast whimpered.

"(Pathetic,)" Edwin muttered. Ember elbowed him.

"Abela will die if you keep her here," Kivan said. "If you truly feel as you do, you must set her free."

The mage slumped dejectedly. "I...it is so. Forgive me Abela, I have been a fool. I release you from my enchantments, and you are free to leave. Please do not think too harshly of me," Ragefast said. He reached for her collar and pulled it from her neck.

The nymph drew a deep breath and stretched as though she'd just woken up. "I am not without fault; 'tis my nature to breed obsession in people. I forgive you," she told the teary-eyed mage. "As for my impromptu saviors, my gratitude is boundless! Please, take a lock of hair to remember me by." Before anyone could object, she took a dagger from a nearby desk and cut off a rich golden lock, which she handed to Ember. The hair was softer than silk, and had a sheen that put all jewelry to shame.

"It will be good to feel the grass beneath my feet once more! I doubt I shall seek the company of man for some time. Goodbye," Abela said with a smile. She kissed Ragefast, cast a spell, and was gone.

"Farewell, my love," Ragefast whispered. He sat heavily down on a chair and collapsed in tears.

"I am sorry, but it had to be done," Ember told Ragefast. She was tempted to give him the lock of hair, but decided not to; he'd probably obsess over that in her stead, and never recover. Instead, she beckoned her companions towards the door. They left quietly, and closed the door behind them.

As they slowly walked back towards the Sorcerous Sundries, Ember coiled the lock of Abela's hair around her hand, and pulled her cloak around her to hide the treasure from would-be thieves. Minsc and Kivan were talking about the nymph, and Edwin kept mentioning new magical items they could make with the lock of hair. However, the wizard seemed distracted; he kept looking at his wands and pulling different ones out of his pack.

"Do you expect trouble from Ramazith?" Ember asked Edwin.

"(What a foolish question.) Of course! Fortunately, he is no match for my intellect."

It was not long before they found the other Red Wizard; when they entered an alley near the spell shop, they saw the mage waiting for them at the far end. "I see that you have returned, yes?" Ramazith said. "You need not say that you have betrayed me, for I scrye and spy! Certainly you are foolish to have come here after breaking our deal! I have many spells waiting for parts of nymph, and will be a long time looking for another. An expensive delay you have cost me, and compensation be from your hide!"

"In case you didn't notice, I never actually said we'd help you," Ember said.

"Fools! But what else to expect!" Ramazith growled. He raised his hands, shouted a few syllables, and a cloud of noxious fumes filled the alley. Ember fell to her knees, coughing and spitting to rid herself of the fire that flooded her mouth and nostrils.

"Indeed, what else to expect from you, Odesseiron?" Ramazith shouted. "How could you think you would not fail when you surround yourself with incompetent barbarians who do not know what good for them? Lower yourself like this... do not think the Zulkir will not know of your disgrace!" The mage paused. "Unless... ohhh. No, that cannot be; you are not -"

Three orcs materialized in front of Ramazith. The mage shrieked with surprise; moments later, a large club smashed his skull.

-.-.-

The library at the top of Ramazith's tower was very dusty, and smelled of spilled potions and old scrolls. Edwin rifled through the many keys on Ramazith's keychain (how fortunate that the inept fool had carried those with him) and selected the smallest one, which he tried on a locked chest. There was a tiny click, and the lock sprang open.

"(Too close,)" he mumbled quietly as he rifled through the spellscrolls in the chest. There was no danger of anyone hearing him, as the others were searching the lower floors (after all, none of them were fit to evaluate arcane spellscrolls, and they would only be in his way. Imoen would have been useful company, though).

Had Ramazith truly guessed why he still travelled with Ember and Imoen? Edwin absentmindedly patted the wand of monster summoning that hung from his belt. Nobody would know, thanks to that wand and his perfect brain's ability to plan ahead, but it had still been far too close. He could not afford to let the others know the truth, or even suspect that there was a truth to be known.

He had to be more careful.

At the bottom of the chest, he found Ramazith's journal. Written in Thayvian, it was filled with notes about one Sarevok Anchev, a rising star in the Iron Throne hierarchy. Edwin recognized the name immediately; after all, it had been written all over the documents they'd found in Cloakwood. Here, in addition to the results of Ramazith's research, was yet another connection that supported his own theory! "Who is the failure now?" he muttered gleefully.

He stuffed the journal into his pack for later perusal, and headed for the bookshelves.


	58. Chapter 57: The Iron Throne

**Chapter 57: The Iron Throne**

That evening, after they had all eaten supper together in the common room of the Elfsong, Imoen and Edwin moved to the quiet corner table where they usually sat and studied their spells before bedtime.

"Here," Edwin said, handing her a half dozen or so spell scrolls, "these shouldn't be beyond you."

"Thanks!" Imoen said, and started unrolling the scrolls. "Are these from that Red Wizard's house? Ember told me about him. I'd have loved to see you summon those orcs!"

"It was nothing," Edwin said irritably, and opened his spellbook.

"It sounded like it was, from the way she described him," Imoen said lightly as she leafed through her new scrolls. _Hey, Mirror Image!_ "I'm just wondering what you were competing at. Gathering spells?"

"(Why me?)" Edwin muttered, resting his head in his hands. "It was not that kind of competitor."

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword Coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of 'personal advancement' you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

Edwin stared intently at his spellbook in a way that clearly showed he wasn't actually reading anything.

"Come to think of it," Imoen continued, "Wasn't Minsc's witch - his first witch, I mean - competing with you too?"

"(Enough!)" Edwin slammed his spellbook shut. "What I am about to tell you, you must not tell anyone."

"All right," Imoen said.

"Not even Ember."

Imoen grinned. "All right."

"Last winter, there arose a rumour that a certain ...artifact (yes, that's it) might be found on the Sword Coast," Edwin murmured. "This became known to both Rashemen and Thay. Both nations desire the artifact, and neither nation wants the other to have it. (Or any other nation, for that matter.)"

"What kind of artifact is it? A sword, a wand, a spell that'll destroy the moon?" Imoen asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," Edwin said. "It is not a weapon, it is... a matter of prestige. Many wizards have come here in search of the artifact."

"Witches, if they're from Rashemen," Imoen said.

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. The point is, there are signs that point to its location, and those signs are most easily understood by those possessing magical ability and a vast intellect, which describes me perfectly. I am certain I will soon locate the artifact, and then I will reap my reward. There. Are you satisfied?"

_Not a chance!_ "Could I help you find it?" Imoen asked.

"Share the glory of a matter of Thayvian pride? Out of the question!" Edwin huffed.

"Fine, be that way," Imoen said. She was certain he was withholding something, but he wouldn't tell her anything more. Not tonight, anyway.

"So, how was your day?" Edwin asked pointedly.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes. (Anything to change the subject.)"

"Me and Alora rescued a dead boy."

Edwin raised his eyebrows.

"He'd snuck into the temple of Umberlee and drowned," Imoen said, "and we went in and asked that Tenya girl to give him back, and she had us carry him out ourselves and then we had to wait in the street while the other boy went and got his dad so that he could be resurrected. It was pretty awful, you know? We kill so many people, but we never really notice that they're dead, do we? Anyway, I sat with him and I couldn't stop looking at him and he looked so ...wrong and then I had to cover his face to stop looking at him. It was just horrible." She closed her eyes; the memory was still painful.

"(She's lost her mind.) Let me get this straight. You retrieved a dead boy, and someone's father resurrected him?"

"His father. He's a Tymoran priest. The father, that is."

"I fail to see what was so horrible, then. (Other than the stupidity of sneaking into a temple of Umberlee.)"

Imoen glanced at Edwin. He looked so indifferent; maybe a little bored or confused, but that was all. "I'm feeling a bit tired," she said. "I think I'll go to bed early. Goodnight, Eddie." She gathered her spellbook and scrolls in her arms and went upstairs to look for Ember. _At least she'll understand._

-.-.-

The following morning was dreary, with cloudy skies and gusts of wind blowing down the streets, and everyone was glad for the carriage they'd hired to take them to the Iron Throne. As she stepped out of the carriage, Ember glanced up at the tower before them. The building had a dull grey sheen, almost as if it were made of iron itself. She pulled her new red cloak tighter around her.

"Is everyone ready?" she asked, and glanced around at her companions. Imoen and Edwin, who were going to be the merchants from Sembia, wore matching formal robes of blue and purple. Imoen, who was wearing a charm made from the nymph's hair, looked like a queen with her darkened and pinned up hair. Minsc, Kivan and Alora all wore leather armour and long red cloaks, just like Ember; the four of them were to be Edwin and Imoen's staff. Alora carried a basket that seemingly only contained writing supplies, and Minsc's face was hidden deep within the cowl of his cloak. Ember hadn't dared rely upon a hood, and had taken a potion that morning which had turned her hair black and made her skin as dark as a Calimshite's. Her eyes were unchanged, but fortunately they were a dark enough green to not look out of place in her new complexion.

"Yep!" Imoen said, and twisted her face into a haughty expression. "Yes, we are ready. Come, minions!" Led by Imoen and Edwin, they strode up to the massive front doors of the Iron Throne.

"Welcome to the Iron Throne citadel," the guard at the door said. "Could you please state what business brings you here."

"We have business with your leaders," Imoen replied smoothly. "We've just come from Sembia and are quite weary, so if you would just step aside, we would be grateful."

"Even more? Strange... we've not been told about you," the guard said. Imoen gave him a withering glare. "But no matter, you may come in!" the guard continued hurriedly, and opened the doors for them.

"How are you doing that?" Ember whispered to Imoen as they walked through a set of double doors that led to the entrance hall.

"I'm mimicking Eddie," Imoen whispered back.

The interior of the building was astounding. The floors and walls were made from a blueish marble, and statues of white marble were placed along the walls and around the support pillars in the room. Strong beams of timber bound with iron crisscrossed the lofty ceiling. A number of guards, servants, messengers and lesser merchants were in the room, going about their business in the light from the many candles, which were placed on wrought iron candlesticks throughout the chamber.

While they were disguised as messengers, Imoen and Alora had learned quite a bit about the building. While the four lower floors mainly supported lesser functions of the organization, the offices of the local leaders, as well as the main meeting chambers, were all on the fifth floor. Rieltar, whom they knew to be linked to everything they'd come across so far, also had his offices there. All in all, it was clear that their best bet would be to gain access to the fifth floor, and it was equally clear that they might not be able to avoid a fight to get there.

They walked up flights of steps carved from the same exquisite blue marble as the rest of the interior. Every guard they met accepted their cover story and let them pass, just as Imoen had said they would; there were so many merchants arriving these days that nobody cared when yet another group showed up.

On the third floor, a large woman with straw blonde hair and angry red cheeks came towards them in a flurry of blue and golden garments. "At last, someone who looks like they could be of some assistance. The assorted boobs and dimwits around here have been of very little help," she huffed.

"Ah, but what else can be expected from boobs and dimwits?" Edwin replied.

"Exactly!" The woman laughed. "You may call me Emissary Tar and direct me towards the staircase that leads upwards. I have some important business to conduct on the fifth floor."

"The fifth floor, you say?" Imoen asked. "We were heading that way ourselves. We could accompany you there, if you wish."

"Ah, thank you," the emissary said. "I swear, these merchants deliberately obscure the layout of their offices."

"This way," Imoen said, gesturing with one hand towards the stairs. The emissary strode ahead of them, gliding across the floor like a golden galleon with blue sails.

A short man with a self-important air stopped them on the fourth floor. "Mmn, hello. You must be the city negotiators... Let me see on the list, here: Emissary... Emissary Tar? Right on time and a pleasure to meet you," he said in an oily voice. "My name is Destus Gurn, Assistant Chief Accountant -"

Emissary Tar raised a hand. "Please, I am here to negotiate a new treaty with Thaldorn, not to waste time with chitchat. If you would be so kind as to allow me to proceed upstairs to the negotiations, I would be very grateful."

"Yes, true, very well then, Emissary Tar. Proceed upstairs and don't allow me to keep you here a moment longer. Great things are afoot and I am very proud to have met you on behalf of the Iron Throne and I hope, for everyone's sake, then, that the... negotiations... proceed swiftly, yes, thank you." The short man bowed once and scurried out of sight.

"Hm," Imoen said, and glanced at Ember. She nodded back; she, too, had noticed the strange inflection in Gurn's voice. It did not bode well.

"Ah, here it is," Emissary Tar said, and ascended a small spiraling staircase. Ember and Imoen quickly led the others up after her, and found her talking with a tall man dressed in the colours of the Iron Throne. Six armoured men stood at the back of the room.

"What a pleasure to meet- who are these? Who dares intrude?" the tall man said as Ember's group appeared. For a split second, his eyes flashed silver.

_Doppelganger!_ "Emissary, GET BACK!" Ember shouted just as the doppelganger lunged. Emissary Tar took a step backwards, narrowly avoiding the dagger in the doppelganger's hand. Kivan grabbed the emissary's sleeve and directed her towards the stairs, out of harm's way.

"Meddling flesssh!" the doppelganger cried.

"Now you've done it," one of the men said in a gruff voice. "Who do you think you are to interfere?"

"Someone who knows a doppelganger when she sees one," Ember replied calmly, shifting her grip on her staff as she spoke. Behind her, Imoen was quietly chanting a spell.

The man laughed. "You little fool, you have breached an inner circle. We are servants of Sarevok, selected by hand to protect his destiny. And you," the man said as he drew his sword, "are an insect."

"You, said another, raising a mace, "will be crushed!"

"His will be done!" cried a third, and began casting a spell.

Then, Imoen finished casting, and time seemed to slow down to a crawl. With an almost ferocious energy, Ember ran after one of the spellcasters and rammed her staff into his belly. Soon, the world was a mass of moving bodies: Ember's friends, her enemies, the flock of wolves that Edwin had summoned and set upon the doppelganger. Spells filled the air, along with the crash of weapons and the cries of pain whenever someone was wounded.

Something within Ember was humming gleefully.

Dismay filled her, and she faltered, giving the mace wielder just the opening he needed to knock her down. She bit back a scream and rolled away from her foe just as Minsc brought his sword crashing down on him. Ember drew a deep breath, muttered a healing spell to restore her broken ribs, and got back up on her feet. _For my friends,_ she told herself, and ran to Imoen's side to heal a nasty burn on her friend's arm.

By the time the fight was over, the humming had stopped. Ember looked around; the room was in shambles, all her friends were injured, the doppelganger and four of the men were dead, and the last two men were unconscious. She staggered over to where Alora had set down the basket, pushed aside the writing supplies that were on top, gave Boo a light pat, and pulled out several healing potions. Most were given to Minsc, who had broken an arm and said he'd never fight without Boo again. The emissary was not to be seen, and had no doubt fled the building.

"Let's hurry and look for evidence," Ember said.

"Come, Boo!" Minsc cried, and they all headed for the side offices. Unfortunately, most of the rooms seemed to only be used for show purposes; they contained few documents of any kind other than the commendations on the walls. In the last room they found a pale man, cowering behind a desk of heavy oak.

"What are you doing here?" the man asked in a shrill voice. "Get out before I call the guards!"

"Thaldorn, I presume? Go ahead, so we can tell them what you tried to do to Emissary Tar!" Imoen said.

The man turned even paler. "I had nothing to do with it!" he shrieked.

"I suppose you had nothing to do with the mines either?" Ember asked.

"No! Nothing!"

"I believe him," Edwin said. "(He is too much of a coward to manage anything like that.)"

"Where is Rieltar?" Ember asked as Alora and Imoen began searching the room.

"He's away... important business meeting," Thaldorn stammered.

"Nothing here either!" Alora said, looking up from a large document chest in the corner. "Only wine in here, there is!"

"Where is this meeting?" Kivan asked.

"Candlekeep," Imoen said quietly, holding up a parchment she'd found in the desk drawer.

"Yes! He's gone to Candlekeep, and Brunos too! Now, will you please let me go?" Thaldorn pleaded.

"(I've never seen such a complete lack of dignity,)" Edwin muttered, and cast a holding spell on Thaldorn. "Let us leave this worm."

_Candlekeep? Why Candlekeep, of all places?_ Ember exchanged worried glances with Imoen as they left the fifth floor and made their way downstairs with a bagful of scrolls from Thaldorn's office.

Was this conspiracy about to spread to their old home?


	59. Chapter 58: Going Home

**Chapter 58: Going Home**

The offices of Duke Eltan looked completely different in the late afternoon. The light from the windows was now faint and cold, letting the flickering candles dominate, and the meeting room, the same one they'd been in only a couple days ago, seemed almost too small to hold them all.

Ember and her friends weren't alone with the duke this time; Emissary Tar sat in a large chair in a corner, and the duke's private physician, Rashad, moved slowly around the room, administering a potion here and checking a poultice there. Duke Eltan had summoned him the moment Ember's group arrived, bloodied and bruised, and he had spent the evening tending their wounds. The physician was a quiet and gentle man, with a mop of white hair and a warm smile on his wrinkled, tanned face; it was almost as if a beloved grandfather had come to nurse them back to health.

The duke himself sat in the chair at the head of the table, resting his chin on his folded hands in a contemplative fashion. "To sum up," he said, "Sarevok's lackeys attempted to murder my emissary, and they more than likely intended to replace her with a doppelganger. We also have a letter from the selfsame Sarevok, intended for his foster father, Rieltar. In this letter, he proclaims that he has killed you, claims that you are Zhentarim agents, and mentions dealings with the bandits in Cloakwood. All in all, I believe we have enough to have him brought in; I will task Scar and Angelo with the matter immediately."

"I think Sarevok put the bounty on Ember," Imoen said. "I mean, we already knew he was Tazok's boss and that Tazok was hiring bounty hunters, and now it sounds like Rieltar doesn't really know why the Throne wants her dead, or they wouldn't be calling us Zhentarims."

"I agree," Kivan said.

"Now, as for Rieltar," the duke said, "we still have no direct evidence against him. What we do know is that he and Brunos are meeting with the heads of some other organization, and that they have chosen Candlekeep for their meeting."

"I don't remember any merchants ever meeting at Candlekeep," Ember said. "It's a place for study, not for business."

"It would be an ideal place for a secret meeting, far from prying eyes," Edwin pointed out. "(Especially with the prohibitively costly entrance fee. Wasting all those books on monks...)"

"Precisely. Whatever the nature of this meeting, I feel it can't bode well for the fortunes of this city," Duke Eltan said.

"I think Thaldorn knows more than nothing about these things," Imoen said, "but I don't suppose these letters are enough to have him questioned, are they?"

"Of course not." The duke sighed heavily. "His name is not on them, and you told me he denied all knowledge of anything, including the trap set by Sarevok's acolytes. The word of a respected merchant against the word of six brutal villains - Thaldorn will, of course, describe you as such - would mean nothing in court. Besides, we still need him. The Seven Suns and the Merchant's League can deliver enough iron to cover the city's basic needs, but if it comes to war with Amn, it will be far from enough. We will still need to be supplied by the Iron Throne."

"I refuse to return to that dreadful place!" Emissary Tar declared.

"I will make arrangements for the negotiations to take place here instead, Emissary. Considering the circumstances of your visit, I am sure Thaldorn will understand." The emissary settled back in her chair in a manner that suggested she was mollified by Duke Eltan's solution, but only slightly so.

"And what about Rieltar?" Kivan asked.

"Boo wonders also!" Minsc said. "Because even if he is not hunting for Minsc's witch, he is still an evil man!"

"I have not forgotten about him, my friends," the duke said. "I think the best course of action would be to follow him and Brunos to Candlekeep and learn what they're doing there. Will you do this? With two natives of Candlekeep amongst you, there are none better suited for such a task."

"When do you want us to go?" Ember asked. Duke Eltan's request was just what she'd been hoping for ever since Imoen found the letter about the meeting.

"As soon as possible; I fear there is no time to waste. Tomorrow morning, preferably."

"I am afraid I must object," Rashad said. "Do you not see how weary they are, my lord? They should all have at least a day or two of rest before embarking upon such a mission, in order to recover properly."

"I never said I'd send them on foot, Rashad."

"It is also strenuous to travel on a horse's back, my lord."

"I cannot ride. The horses, too big they are!" Alora said quietly.

"Other travel arrangements can be made," the duke said. "Will a carriage suffice?"

"It will do just fine," Ember said. "We'll be ready to leave in the morning."

-.-.-

That night, Ember lay awake, mulling over the events of the day. Imoen was fast asleep in the other bed; she and Edwin had spent the evening scrutinizing the tome the duke had given them for their entrance fee, and Imoen had nodded off within moments of resting her head on her pillow. Ember wished she could have done the same as easily. They would set out for Candlekeep shortly after dawn, riding as passengers on a heavily guarded caravan until they reached the crossroads where the Lion's Way met the Sword Coast Road, and they'd only walk on that last stretch. It'd be a long and tiring trip, even in a carriage, and Ember knew she needed as much rest as she could get.

How many nights had she lain awake like this while Imoen slept?

She felt foolish for being so surprised when the bloodlust had come over her again during the fight in the Iron Throne tower. She should have known it'd happen sooner or later; she was still essentially the same person as she was before she'd taken druidic vows. Nothing had been removed from her. _It's not about altering things, it's about understanding things so I can alter them myself. Just like I did today,_ she told herself. _I didn't let it guide me._ That was what she would do, then; she could recognize the bloodlust when it came, and she knew it for what it was. She would learn how to rein it in. _Balance the inner world as well as the outer,_ she thought with a small smile.

Her smile faded as her thoughts turned to Sarevok's acolytes. Their words before the fight, and the looks on their faces, had deeply disturbed her. According to Imoen and Alora, the regular Iron Throne guards were scared of Sarevok's little group of mercenaries, and it had been easy to see why; there had been a fanatical gleam in their eyes, and they had acted almost like some kind of cultists. What kind of man could invoke such a response from his men? The image of a large man in spiked armour appeared in her mind, and she shivered.

The one bright point in all this was that it at least implied that a single man wanted her dead, not an entire organization.

What would it be like to return to Candlekeep? So much had changed since she and Imoen left; had that place changed as well? Or would it still be full of quiet scholars and sleepy guards? Winthrop would be pleased to see Imoen again, at least. Ember wondered if her friend had even said goodbye to the old innkeeper. Dreppin would be happy to see them too, as would Tethtoril. Phlydia would probably not even have noticed they'd been away; Ember could hear her now, asking them if they'd seen any of her misplaced books lately. Karan and Parda would be proud of them, though; at least, so she hoped. And just wait till they all found out that Immy had become a mage!

With her mind filled with pleasant thoughts of her old home, Ember finally dozed off.

As she drifted into sleep, the thoughts became images, and a vision of Candlekeep came into view before her. She found herself moving towards the keep, and soon, she was passing through the gates, which reached to the heavens and were the largest doors she'd ever seen. Someone was walking beside her, holding her hand; Ember looked up and saw Gorion's familiar grizzled face. It was then that Ember realized she was a child again, only a few seasons old.

Gorion was walking so fast! She had to run to keep up with him. Or was that because of her short legs? And how old must Gorion have been to have aged as little as he had in her lifetime?

They were inside the keep now, and heading for the library. "Wait here, and be good. I won't be long," Gorion told her, and helped her sit on the broad stone rim of a shallow fountain. Then he went into the library to go to an important meeting with Ulraunt, the Keeper of the Tomes; an important meeting about her. She couldn't remember why it was so important, though, and she settled for drawing patterns in the water with her fingers. Soon, she could hear shouting from inside, just like there had been at their previous stops. She did her best not to listen to any of the words that were being said.

Something dark was reflected in the water. Ember stopped touching the water, and when the surface was still, she saw the reflection of a large raven that was perched on top of a stone wall. It was staring straight at her with huge, black eyes. She stared back at the bird in the mirror of the water; for some reason, she was afraid of raising her head and looking directly at the bird. Its feet were so ugly, she noticed; almost like little skeletal claws. "Look at me," the raven cawed. She shook her head, and focused her attention on the grass and flowers that grew around the fountain instead.

The doors of the library suddenly swung open, and Ulraunt stormed out. He glanced at Ember for a moment, but looked away as he spoke. "You both can stay," he sneered, "but mark my words. That child will be the death of you."

Gorion came out of the library doors. He looked exactly like he had the last time Ember had seen him: dead. She couldn't bear to look at him, and dropped her gaze. Her eyes found the surface of the water; to her relief, the raven was gone. All she saw was her own reflection.

Her eyes were black, just like those of the bird.

"Like father, like child," her reflection said. "You cannot escape."

With a half-choked sob, she woke up. It was still dark outside, Imoen was fast asleep, and Ember was freezing. She sat up in bed and hugged herself, rocking back and forth to try to get some warmth, some life, into her cold body. _I am not like that... it is not me,_ she told herself, over and over. She badly wanted to wake Imoen up, but decided not to; it was better that her friend got some rest. The terror of the dream would let go soon, and if it didn't, **then** she could wake Imoen.

Soon, the chilled feeling left Ember's limbs, and she relaxed back onto her pillow. She might not get any more sleep, but she'd manage. "I am not my ancestry," she whispered to herself once again, and looked out the window, where faint traces of crimson were appearing in the sky.

She could not shake the horrible feeling that somehow, part of her knew exactly what that raven was talking about.


	60. Chapter 59: Home Again

**Chapter 59: Home Again**

The stone walls of Candlekeep seemed darker and more forbidding than Ember remembered them, but she suspected the weather might be to blame for that; they had arrived under a dull grey afternoon sky that swirled with rapidly moving clouds, and the slate-coloured ocean was tipped with white. The roar of waves crashing against the narrow isthmus that linked Candlekeep to the rest of the Sword Coast made it difficult to talk with the Gatekeeper without raising her voice.

_Then again, it's not as if we're getting a warm welcome home,_ Ember mused as the surly man inspected the History of the Nether Scroll. His name was Borrin, and he and Ember had never been fond of each other. As soon as the group arrived, he had greeted them by pointing out that neither Ember nor Imoen were on the resident lists anymore, and that even if they had been, their companions would still have had to donate a valuable tome to enter. Edwin, who had spent the entire trip taking notes from the book, had handed it over in silence, but Ember had distinctly heard the wizard mutter 'illiterate oaf' as he turned away.

"Very well, you have met the requirements to gain entry to our most holy library," Borrin finally told Ember and Imoen. "Please have your less civilized friends refrain from causing trouble. We are very strict with the letter of the law, as you both well know."

"Yes, Gatekeeper," Ember muttered, and waited quietly while someone inside opened the gates. The doors pulled open with a sluggishness that was on the verge of being aggravating, and eventually revealed two other guards and a glimpse of the keep within.

"Now there's a face I never thought I'd see again in a million years!" one of the guards exclaimed.

"Hull!" Imoen called out. "And Fuller!"

"I knew they'd come scampering back before the snows fell," Borrin grumbled as the group, led by Ember and Imoen, passed through the gates.

"Well, I'll be...! If that isn't someone with a tale to tell, I don't know who is," Fuller said with a broad grin. "What have you been up to this past while?"

"Killing more kobolds than you could ever imagine! Hey, you wouldn't happen to need a few rusty old short swords, would you, because I've found tons," Imoen said.

Fuller laughed heartily. "Ah, that's our Imoen! Always good for a laugh, you were..." His face fell, and he turned towards Ember. "Hey, I'm, uh... I'm sorry about Gorion and all... I guess you've seen more than just kobolds, haven't you..."

"When Imoen here came and told us about Gorion, Fuller and I went out to gather his body," Hull said, "but you were nowhere to be seen. I don't know what you two came across that night, but Gorion died a noble death saving you from it."

A lump rose in Ember's throat. "Thank you, both of you," she said quietly. "Where... where did you bury him?"

"Why, Tethtoril himself found him a nice spot! He's under that oak tree that leans against the wall of the central keep, north of the library," Fuller said.

Ember knew the spot very well. Gorion had taken a liking to that tree, and he'd often sit in its shade on fine summer evenings, reading or thinking or just enjoying a tranquil moment. "It's the perfect place. Thank you so much," she said with a wobbly voice. Beside her, Imoen reached out and squeezed her hand.

"Aw, don't mention it, kid," Hull said, giving her a friendly slap on the back. "Look, you'd better get yourselves to the inn before it gets dark. I'm sure Winthrop will be happy to see you."

As they made their way to the inn, Imoen told their friends all about each and every house they passed. "...and that's Dreppin's farm and that's Phlydia's little house and that's an old tomb and..." she said in a never ending stream of chatter. Ember walked in silence, soaking up the familiar surroundings; she hadn't realized how much she missed home until she was back.

"And where is the much-vaunted library?" Edwin asked. "(As if anything else matters.)"

"There," Imoen said, pointing over the inner keep walls to their left. The three topmost floors of the library were clearly visible over the top of the wall. "You'll visit it tomorrow."

Edwin didn't reply; he stared, mouth open, at the towering library. "(I am in heaven,)" he finally muttered.

"And here's the inn!" Imoen said, running up to the front door of the largest wooden building in the keep and shoving it open. She glanced inside, shouted, "Puffguts!" and ran into the inn. When the others made it inside, they found Imoen hugging the innkeeper, who had lifted her from the ground in a crushing bear hug.

"Hello, Winthrop," Ember said.

"Aye, now there's the rapscallion!" Winthrop said, putting Imoen down. "Set on the little wisp, now, and make every bolt count!" Imoen burst out laughing.

"If I had an arrow for every one of these practical jokes you've played on me, I'd... I'd... I don't know, I'd have a lot of arrows!" Ember said with an amused grin. The innkeeper's jokes were as bad as ever, but right now, she could want nothing else.

"Yes, ye'd run me right out of the fletching business in a flash, ye would!" Winthrop laughed and turned back to Imoen. "It's good to see your impish face again, little one! Now fill me in on what it is ye've been doing lately."

"We've been adventuring!" Imoen exclaimed. "There's a world out there and it needs a righteous old kick in the behind every now and again, doesn't it?"

"Spoken with the wisdom of a true fool! By the gods, I love this child!" Winthrop exclaimed, and hugged Imoen again. "Just look at you! Are those mage robes?"

"Who... is this man?" Edwin asked as Imoen started telling Winthrop a disjointed, rambling summary of all they'd done so far.

"She has never told you about the man who raised her?" Kivan asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Er... she says so many things. (I prefer to only focus on the more important ones.)"

"Talked about him while we were on the road, she did!" Alora said. "Holy mutton mongrel, the pranks he's played! He sounded like such a nice and happy guy!"

"Did I, little one?" Winthrop rumbled goodnaturedly. "Well, girl," he said to Imoen, "what kind of scoundrels are your new friends?"

"Heroes, not scoundrels!" Minsc said.

"That's Minsc and Boo," Imoen said. "We met them in the mountains. And she's Alora, we met her in Baldur's Gate."

"Hey there hi there!" Alora said.

"And this is Eddie, who's teaching me magic," Imoen continued, pointing at Edwin, "and this is Kivan who helped us when we first were in the woods," she pointed at the elf. Kivan bowed slightly, and Edwin grumbled something.

"Welcome, all of ye!" Winthrop said. "I'll have the new maid - she's nothing like you, Immy; no sense of humour at all! - get some rooms ready. As for the grub, I'll fix it myself."

"Boo wonders if little Imoen's friend has any grain, for his tiny tummy is rumbling," Minsc said politely.

Winthrop laughed. "We got grain, we got ale, we got armour, we got... Ah hell, this is old hat. Ye girls know what it is we all got. Now, come eat!"

-.-.-

"Isn't it great to be home?" Imoen asked as she and Ember got ready for bed in Imoen's old room. They had been eaten their fill on Winthrop's stew, and several of their old friends had stopped by the inn that evening. Alora and Winthrop had gotten along splendidly, and had spent a long time laughing in a corner. Minsc and Boo had found company in a pair of elderly scholars, and while Kivan had mostly just sat quietly in a corner, even he had smiled on occasion. Edwin, on the other hand, had seemed quite out of place, and had settled for eating rather than talking.

"Did you see Dreppin's face when he saw you? I always said he liked you," Ember said, making Imoen blush. Dreppin had come to Candlekeep some five years ago, when he was about as old as Ember was now, and as far as she could tell, he'd spent at least two of those years admiring Imoen.

"Dreppin always was a sweetie," Imoen admitted, "but he's too quiet for me, and you know that!"

"I know, I know. I'm just teasing you," Ember said with a grin. Imoen flung a pillow at her face, and Ember retaliated in kind. Soon, pillows and blankets were flying across the room.

"So, what are the plans for tomorrow?" Imoen asked after the brief pillow fight ended.

"Well, we have to go to the library, of course," Ember said. "With luck, we'll be able to find out what Rieltar is up to."

"Eddie's about to burst with impatience to go there, but I don't think he'll be very useful in the spying department."

"Well, that's what you and Alora and maybe Kivan are for, right?"

"Yep!"

Ember smiled briefly. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong happening in town, but we can't be sure. I'll take a look around and talk to people, and I'll bring Minsc with me, just in case. Parda did seem a bit out of sorts today, come to think of it," she said thoughtfully.

"He was a bit on edge, wasn't he?" Imoen said.

"I'll see if I can talk with him alone tomorrow. Who knows, it might be something small that I can help him with." Ember looked toward the window. It was too dark to see the crashing waves below, but it took little effort for her to feel the massive presence of the ocean, teeming with life in a manner so different from the forests and hills. "I need to talk to Ulraunt as well," she said quietly.

"Why?" Imoen asked.

"I'm pretty sure he knows who... what I am."

"Because of that dream, right?"

"I think that part of the dream was a memory. It **feels** like a memory. And I have to know."

Imoen nodded in a very sagely fashion. "Then ask him, but not until tomorrow. Don't worry about that mean old bufflehead tonight. You need rest, Em," she said, and gave Ember a hug.

"I'll do my best," Ember said, hugging her back.

"You'd better, or I'll use a sleeping cantrip on you!"

"You wouldn't!"

"I would too! Here, you need a pillow," Imoen said with a laugh, and lobbed a pillow towards Ember's head. Ember reached out and snatched it before it struck her.

"Why, thank you for your kind gift, o mighty mage!" she said, fluffing the pillow.

"You're most welcome, o... o dainty druid!" Imoen replied as she picked the blankets up from the floor and put them on the bed.

"I'm not dainty!" Ember protested.

"Daring, then?"

"Much better."

Imoen crawled into the bed, which was more than large enough for both of them; it had once belonged in the best room in the inn. "Here, lay against my back," she said, "like we did when we were kids. Remember?"

"I remember," Ember said, pulling the blankets over her and leaning against Imoen's warmth. "I heard you crying at night when you'd just come here, so I decided to keep you company."

"It kept the nightmares away," Imoen said.

"Maybe it still works."

"Only one way to find out!" Imoen said. "Nighty night, Em."

"Goodnight, Immy," Ember said. She closed her eyes and let herself listen to the heartbeat of the sea outside as she drifted towards sleep.

Tomorrow would be a busy day.


	61. Chapter 60: Investigation

**Chapter 60: Investigation**

Gorion's grave was covered by a slab of pale marble, and the oak tree that sheltered it had shed a generous amount of red and yellow leaves on the stone. Ember kneeled in the damp, yellow grass beside the grave and brushed away the leaves with her hand. The morning was as dull and grey as the day before, and clouds hid the sunrise, but there was still enough light for Ember to make out the inscription; the name 'GORION' in fat letters across the top of the stone, then an intricate carving of a staff and a wand, crossing each other, then the words 'He Will Be Missed'. She finished clearing the leaves off the slab of marble, and placed her hand upon it.

"I miss you, Father," she whispered. "There's so much I wish I could tell you." Tears filled her eyes as she talked about her fears and doubts; she let them come. Some of them fell from her cheek and landed on the marble, where they mingled with the moisture from last night's rain while she unburdened herself. She didn't know how long she sat there like that, but eventually, her heart felt lighter, and she told happier stories as memories of their time together came to her.

The sky had brightened a bit by the time she felt done. "I will manage this," she said quietly. "I'll make you proud. I love you, Father." She gave the corner of the stone a gentle pat, wiped her eyes, drew a deep breath and stood up. It was time to face the day.

-.-.-

Parda was where he always was in the early hours of the day; nothing short of a storm could keep him from tending the fountains outside the library in the morning. "Hello, Parda," Ember called out as she walked towards him. The old sage started, and dropped the rake he was using to remove leaves from the water.

"Ah, Ember, is it you," he said shakily.

"Yes, it is me," she said as she picked the rake up, "and I've never seen a simple 'hello' startle you like that. What is wrong?"

"Thank you, child," he said, accepting the rake from her with a sigh. "Nothing's wrong, I am sure. It's just that, well, things just seem a little strange around here lately."

"Strange? How?"

"There has been an air of unease over Candlekeep ever since those decidedly un-merchant-like merchants arrived, four days ago. It is a disgrace! Alaundo would never allow such mercenaries into the sanctity of this keep! And the new group of Watchers that arrived a week ago... wherever I go, I feel like they are watching me, studying me. Oh, they have such merciless eyes!"

"No wonder I startled you, then," Ember said, dismayed. _Why couldn't Rieltar have left my home alone?_

"I am not the only one who is affected by this unvoiced panic in our halls. People that I've known for years pass me without greeting, without their usual silly story, without some discourse on their latest readings. They just scurry past me, always in a hurry. I can only hope spirits will calm down when the Iron Throne leaves," Parda said, sounding not very hopeful at all.

"If you'd like, I could try to talk with the new Watchers. It could be that they are poorly trained for guarding a library," Ember said. _Or it could be that they are sent by the Iron Throne. Either way, I have to find out._

Parda smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Ember. You have been away for a time; perhaps your eyes will see things that we cannot, blinded by familiarity as we are."

"I'll do my best," Ember said, and hugged Parda. "Take care of yourself."

As she walked away, leaving Parda to tend the pools, a myriad of theories blossomed in Ember's mind. There was, of course, a chance that people had become surly merely because of the presence of Rieltar and his cronies - she could imagine too well what kind of impression they could have made on the gentle priests and scholars - but something told her there was more behind this. _Perhaps I am feeling the 'unvoiced panic' as well,_ she mused, and headed towards the library doors. She'd more than likely learn more about what was happening if she asked around inside; breakfast would just have to wait.

It was oddly comforting to enter the library again. She walked around the large statue of Alaundo that greeted her at the entrance and proceeded into the first floor's main chamber. It was quiet, even for a library. The sound of her footsteps echoed slightly from the patterned tiles that covered the floor as she moved between the bookshelves. She didn't expect to find anyone on this floor, especially not at such an early hour; there were few reading stations this close to the entrance, and most of the better tomes were kept on the higher floors. Nonetheless, she did see a familiar face, peering intently at the pages of a ragged old book at one of the desks in the far corner.

"Haven't I seen that book before?" Ember asked Edwin. The Red Wizard sat up with a start; the quill in his hand shot across his notes, drawing a line across an entire page.

"Didn't anyone teach you not to sneak up on people like that?" he demanded furiously.

"I wasn't sneaking. Why are you here so early?"

"Because, as you know perfectly well, I was not done studying this tome. It is library property now, and as such, it is available to all, and I intend to make use of that privilege in the limited time I expect to be able to spend here. (There'll no doubt be another crisis soon enough.)"

"I hope you haven't forgotten why we're here in the first place, though," Ember said.

"Of course not! When the time comes to act, Edwin Odesseiron will be ready with all the resources that are at his disposal. But until that time comes, I suggest you stop interrupting my studies! (Preferably immediately.)"

Ember shrugged. "Just don't forget to eat," she said, and left the wizard to his History of the Nether Scrolls.

"(So many books... so little time,)" Edwin muttered as he returned his attention to the tome.

_Sometimes I wonder why we even keep him around,_ Ember thought to herself. She made her way to the winding staircase that led all the way to the top of the library, and headed upstairs in search of someone useful. She did not have to go far; on the second floor, she saw her old tutor Karan, placing some books in one of the many bookshelves. He looked up at the sound of her approach, and came to meet her with a surprised smile.

"Ember, my child, look at you!" he exclaimed. "Your face has gained some new lines since the days when I tutored you..."

"I know, Karan, but it's not your fault. You prepared me as well as you could for what lay beyond these walls," Ember said.

"Well, that is a comfort. When Gorion was found, I feared the worst! Oh, but it is good to see you home again."

"It's good to be home," Ember said with a smile. "But I hear there have been some newcomers?"

"Of course; there always are, aren't there? Some new scullery maids came from Beregost a month ago, and a group of new Watchers - they're not comfortable in their boots yet, by far! - came only a week past."

_The new Watchers again,_ Ember noted. "What about visitors? Anyone interesting?"

"Why, you must have heard about that already!" Karan exclaimed. "Two men from the Iron Throne arrived, what was it, three days ago? Four? They're here for a meeting with two Knights of the Shield, who I believe made their arrival yesterday morning. Oh, and then there's Koveras. He arrived a week ago to research Alaundo's prophecies. As a matter of fact, he was right here beside me, taking the prophecies from their place on the shelf and reading them. I could hear his voice, recognize the Seer's words upon his quiet breath, but when I turned to steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye, it was the strangest thing... his eyes were closed and he was reciting page after page, as if from memory! He heard your footsteps, it seems, and wandered off... I was just returning the prophecies to their rightful place, here," Karan said, indicating the shelf behind him. "You'll forgive me, Ember, but I must take my leave. Perhaps we could talk more later?"

"Of course, dear Karan."

Her old tutor shuffled towards the staircase, and Ember went to the bookshelf that held Alaundo's prophecies. _The Time of Troubles... and the aftermath. Now._ Her hand reached for the book.

"Ah, I thought I might find you somewhere around here," a deep voice rumbled behind her. Startled, Ember dropped the prophecies and turned around. A large man, almost as large as Minsc, loomed over her. He was dressed in simple scholar's robes, but built like a warrior, and there was an intimidating sternness to his face and stance. Most of all, she noticed his eyes: dark pools that flashed with a strange golden sheen whenever he shifted his gaze. She took a step backwards.

"Allow me to introduce myself... My name is Koveras. I used to work for your father, running messages to his Harper friends in Waterdeep."

"Oh?" Ember stammered. Her mouth felt very dry.

"Before he passed on," Koveras continued, "he entrusted this ring to me and asked that I give it to you should evil ever befall him... Will you take it?"

Ember looked up, straight into Koveras's face. She'd seen him before somewhere. "And what evil befell him, Koveras?" she asked calmly.

The man leaned closer to her. "You were there, you saw it all," he said in a low rumble. "A woman, an armoured figure, two ogres wielding clubs. But Gorion's petty magic was of little use against them, was it not? And you," he continued, all but sneering, "you fled with your tail between your legs, hiding amidst the trees until dawn broke. Now, it comes full circle, doesn't it? The Iron Throne so close that you can almost touch them... and wreak your revenge for that night."

_Koveras... Sarevok._ She could easily imagine the golden glints in his eyes burning like flames. And in his disdainful recount of that night, she had recognized the voice of her father's killer.

How dare he speak to her like that?

"You're right, Koveras. I was there. Myself, my father, and four others who tried to kill us," she said, still looking him in the eye. "Where were you, if you know so much?"

Sarevok glared angrily at her. "If you be so void of trust, I am surprised you have made it this far. It is of little matter. Go seek your vengeance or your doom at the hand of the Iron Throne. I wash my hands of it," he announced, and stomped off. Ember watched him head up the stairs to the third floor.

_Trust... my father's murderer lectures me on trust,_ she thought angrily. _And why does he want me to kill __**his**__ father?_ She thought back to the letter they'd found at the Iron Throne, the letter where Sarevok had told Rieltar that she'd been a Zhentarim agent, and was now dead. Rieltar hadn't known why he was interested in her. What else did Rieltar not know? What was Sarevok planning?

She picked up the book with Alaundo's prophecies. It would have been impossible to grow up in Candlekeep and not know them; the most important ones, the ones about the troubled years when the gods walked the earth, were chanted outside every day. Plagues, dragons, and...

A cold feeling gripped her heart.

She opened the book. It did not take long for her to find the prophecy; the lay of the pages showed that it had recently been opened at that section.

"The Lord of Murder shall perish," she read in a shaky whisper, "but in his doom he shall... he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny. Chaos will be sown from their passage..."

The tome fell from her fingers and hit the floor with a muted thud.


	62. Chapter 61: Revelation

**Chapter 61: Revelation**

Imoen took a sip from her steaming mug of spiced milk, and sighed contentedly. Nobody made her favourite drink the way Winthrop did! She looked around the breakfast table. Kivan sat at the head of the table with a cup of mulled wine in front of him, and Alora was helping Minsc sort through a large bowl of nuts, looking for the best ones to give Boo. The sad remains of a loaf of bread, a few slabs of cold roast, several eggshells, and two almost empty jars of preserves littered the table. All in all, it'd been a terrific breakfast.

Ember and Edwin would be sorry they missed out on it. Imoen could imagine where Edwin was - cooped up in the library somewhere behind a pile of books - but she couldn't understand why Ember was gone as well; her morning prayers were usually done long before breakfast, and Imoen knew she didn't even really have to go outside to do them. Then it struck her; Gorion's grave, of course! Imoen felt a bit bad for not going with her friend, but since Ember hadn't woken her, she could hardly help it. _She'd have woken me if she needed the company,_ Imoen told herself, and had another forkful of boiled egg. _Yummy!_

The front door flew open, and Ember rushed in.

"Heya, Em, you almost..." Imoen started, but then she noticed Ember's face, wide-eyed and pale as a ghost's. "What's happened?" Imoen asked with a slightly panicked squeak.

"Here, sit," Kivan said. Quick as lightning, he pulled out a chair and helped Ember sit down in it.

"I... um, I met Sarevok," Ember said very quietly, and drew a deep breath. "He's disguised as a scholar, and he approached me in the library. He encouraged me to 'take my revenge' on the Iron Throne leaders."

Kivan shook his head disbelievingly. "Too cowardly to do his own foul work."

"Whatever he is, it is not a coward," Ember said, and looked at Imoen. "Immy, I recognized him. He's the one, the one who killed Father."

"It is never good when evil wants to kick evil's butt," Minsc complained. "Too complicated! It should always be just villains and heroes and hamsters."

"Did you tell him no? Did you?" Alora asked.

"I told him nothing. I asked him how he knew all about what happened that night, and he got angry and stomped off. Then... I came here."

_She looks so scared,_ Imoen thought. _Why is she so scared when all they did was talk and she did that just fine? I bet there's something else!_ "Here, Em," she said, and handed Ember the mug of spiced milk.

"Thanks," Ember said, and drank down the milk in large gulps. When the mug was empty, she put it on the table. She looked a bit calmer already, but she was still very pale.

"Leaping lizards, you've had no breakfast! Eat you must, then you'll feel happy again!" Alora exclaimed, and trotted off towards the kitchen. Minsc leaned across the table and placed Boo in Ember's hand.

"Let Boo know why you are sad," Minsc said. "He always understands."

"Thank you, Minsc," Ember said, and ruffled Boo's fur. There was a faraway look in her eyes.

"Em?" Imoen asked as quietly as she could.

Ember looked down. "Later," she said, just as quietly. Imoen nodded in understanding.

"I met Parda," Ember continued in a normal voice. "He really is out of sorts, and it I think it's mostly because of some new Watchers that arrived a week ago. He told me it feels like they're always studying him, but he blamed his nervousness it on Rieltar's meeting as well, and he said he's not the only one who is upset these days. Then I talked with Karan for a bit, and he mentioned the unusual new Watchers, too."

"Do you think these Watchers may be spies?" Kivan asked.

"Possibly."

"Then we must look into the matter."

Alora came back and sat down at the table again. "We could find out why people are not happy, too!" she said.

"Minsc will let Boo talk to the friends of little Ember and little Imoen," Minsc announced. "Boo will help them be brave and happy again!"

Imoen could just see it; the oldest, crustiest scholars in Candlekeep, talking about important matters with Boo. _Minsc's half right. If it won't cheer them, it'll at least cheer the onlookers!_ she thought with a grin. The she imagined Boo having an accident on Ulraunt's best robes, and had to struggle to stifle a laugh.

The maid arrived and plonked a plate of eggs and bacon down on the table in front of Ember without a single word. Imoen had already named her Sourpuss in her head, and she more than deserved the name; in fact, Imoen couldn't understand how Winthrop had hired her at all. At least Ember seemed to be doing better; she wasn't as pale anymore, and even though she was mostly just shuffling her food around the plate, she was eating a little. Whatever it was that was wrong, it seemed like she was handling it, so it couldn't be too bad.

Imoen got up from the table. Right now, what they both needed was some more spiced milk.

-.-.-

The barracks were quiet; nobody answered when Kivan knocked on the door, not even to tell them to get lost, as the Watchers usually did. Finally, Imoen decided to try the handle. The door opened. Nobody was inside.

"That's weird," she said, "there's usually always someone resting. You know, I don't think I ever saw this place empty before."

"Perhaps they are all called away because of the meeting," Kivan suggested.

Alora tiptoed across the doorstep. "Ooh, this is exciting! Let's take a look!" she whispered enthusiastically.

Imoen and Alora quickly snuck inside the barracks, and the two of them had soon looked inside every personal chest in the building, for nothing. There was nothing interesting in any of the chests that belonged to the new Watchers; no letters, no papers, no personal things; nothing but clothing and gold coins and some daggers and the occasional spare helmet. The most interesting thing in any of the chests was Hull's little stash of the home-brewed medicine that his mother made. They left the building, slightly disappointed.

"We can ask Hull and Fuller about the new Watchers, I guess," Imoen told the others. "But now, let's go to the library and see what Rieltar is up to! I bet we'll find Eddie in there, too."

"He was there earlier," Ember said quietly.

Imoen nodded. "Thought so," she said, and led the others onwards.

Once inside the library, they found Edwin still sitting in the corner where Ember had seen him, reading the History of the Nether Scrolls. The book had been interesting, but not **that** interesting, Imoen thought, and set about talking him into coming with them. Edwin was a stubborn bufflehead, as usual, and Imoen was about ready to suggest he move into Candlekeep permanently when he relented and put down the book with a very deliberate woe-is-me kind of sigh.

It was probably time for that meeting soon, so they headed straight for the third floor. Up there, they found out where all the Watchers were; it seemed like more Watchers than the entire keep could possibly need were assembled outside the large meeting room in the south end of the floor. Imoen didn't really recognize any of them.

_I'll just have to work with what's here, then,_ Imoen told herself. "Heya!" she said to one of the guards, giving him her sweetest smile. "What's going on up here?"

"Meeting," the guard huffed. "Do not disturb."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it!" Imoen claimed. "I'm just curious. I mean, why would anyone travel this far out of the way for a meeting?"

"Private matters. Leave, or we will have to escort you from this floor."

"But -"

"Go. Now."

The Watchers were all glaring at them by now, and many of them were even reaching for their swords. It really wasn't hard to see why Parda and the others were scared of them. "Fine, we're leaving," Imoen grumbled, and led the others back to the staircase. The regular Watchers would never have chased her away like that, but she wasn't about to let these surly louts stop her; one way or another, they'd find out what was happening. Maybe they could try disguises again, unless maids were banned as well.

"We'll figure out something," she said to the others. "But for now, let's go upstairs and talk with scholars!"

"Ooh, are they as funny as Eddie, with all the stiff and important being?" Alora squealed. Edwin frowned and grumbled something that was probably very insulting.

Imoen grinned. "Some of them are even worse!" she told Alora, and they both laughed.

"Immy?" Ember asked.

"Yep?"

"Do you think they've emptied or given away his room yet?"

Imoen squeezed Ember's arm. "Let's go take a look!"

The two girls headed up to the fifth floor to the scholars' rooms, and followed the hall to the room that'd been Gorion's. The door was half open. Imoen pushed it, and they looked into the room.

It was empty. Nobody had moved in, but the room was stripped. The closet was empty, the books were gone, the keepsakes on the mantlepiece removed. Ember sat wearily down on the bed, which held a new mattress. "I hoped... something would be here," she said.

"(They call this a room fit for study? Despicable,)" Edwin muttered behind them.

"Hush, you," Imoen said, and headed for the window. There, she pulled a dagger from her belt, and started prying at a stone. "Remember this? He always hid little things in here..." As far as Imoen knew, she and Ember were the only ones still alive who knew about the little hideyhole in the windowsill, and Gorion knew that they knew, so if he'd wanted to leave anything for Ember, it'd be the best spot for it.

"Is there anything there now?" she asked hopefully.

"Wait a second... hey, there is! It's a note, with your name on it!" Imoen fished the note out and handed it to Ember. She unfolded it with slightly shaky fingers and started to read. She made a sound like a choked whimper, and her face turned whiter than ashes.

"I was right," she whispered. She clenched the note in her fist and threw it at the opposite wall. Then she screamed. Then she stormed out of the room.

"Ember!" Imoen shouted after her, but it was no use. _What did that note say?_ Imoen went to pick the note up while Kivan ran after Ember, but Edwin had beaten her to it and was reading it with a fascinated look on his face.

"Give me that!" Imoen snapped, and snatched the note from the wizard. It was very tattered now, but it was still easy to read.

_My dear Ember,_

_If you are reading this, it means I have met an untimely death. I would tell you not to grieve for me, but I feel much better thinking that you would. There are things I must tell you in this letter that I might have told you already. However, if my death came too soon then I would have never been given the chance.  
For all these years, I have kept the truth of your heritage from you, for your own sake, but I fear it is now catching up with you. The truth, my daughter, is that you are one of the Bhaalspawn. You have heard the prophecies, so you'll know what this means.  
I must tell you this now because your heritage places you in danger. There is a man named Sarevok who has studied here at Candlekeep in recent years. I have reason to believe that he knows who you are, and that he means you harm. Be watchful, my child.  
There is much more I wish I could tell you, but I cannot risk leaving it here. Know that you have been my daughter in every sense that matters, and it has been my greatest honor to have you call me 'Father'._

_With all my love,_  
_Gorion_

Imoen covered her hand with her mouth. A couple teardrops spattered the note.

-.-.-

Ember sat in silence at a desk on the second floor, reading Alaundo's prophecies under Kivan's watchful gaze. He didn't speak; she was glad he didn't. The others had come, too, but she'd told them to leave. She couldn't bear the thought of talking about it yet.

Her first thought when she ran down the stairs was to get outside, but when she reached the second floor, she'd felt an urgent need to read the prophecies. So far, she'd found nothing good.

She'd spent the morning trying to forget them, to not see herself in them, but she'd known. She had known.

So much for denial, she mused bitterly, and turned the page.

She was still reading when the Watchers came to arrest her and Kivan.


	63. Chapter 62: Escape

**Chapter 62: Escape**

For the first time, Ember saw one of the cells in the library basement. It was small, cold, and smelly, with no windows. A lattice of thick iron bars separated her and her friends from Ulraunt; the Keeper of the Tomes was standing outside their cell with a gloating grin on his face.

"So, Ember," Ulraunt said, "you have sullied your father's name by defiling his home and bringing ruin to a peace that has lasted for centuries. I spit on you and all of your friends; your transgressions will be punished in the most severe form!"

"Which transgressions?" Ember asked. Her voice sounded flat and dead in her ears.

Ulraunt straightened himself up. "I formally accuse you of the murders of Brunos Costak, Kestor Urd, Tuth Oden, and Rieltar Anchev."

"On what grounds do you accuse us?"

"You were seen fleeing the site of the murder by the guest known as Koveras, and your friends were observed nearby when the Watchers discovered the dead bodies."

"We are innocent," Ember said.

"Do not think I do not know about you, whelp!" Ulraunt scoffed. "From what I have been told, you have been trying to place all the misfortune of the Sword Coast squarely on the shoulders of the Iron Throne, disrupting every effort they have made to stabilize matters! Treachery, it is, treachery of the highest degree! Why am I not surprised that it has come to this?" He looked at each of them in turn. Ember glared back at him. For a moment, he seemed ill at ease, but it passed almost immediately. "You and your friends are to be sent to Baldur's Gate, where an appropriate punishment will be administered," he said, and left them.

"He always hated me. He knew all along," Ember muttered. Ulraunt had blindly accepted the lies told him by Sarevok and the new Watchers, and she was sure he'd been happy to do so.

"Em, it's worse," Imoen said.

"How could it be worse?"

Imoen winced. "Doppelgangers," she said unhappily.

Ember groaned loudly. _Of course! People not acting like themselves!_ "I should have guessed! What happened?" she asked.

"Boo says little Ember can't think of everything," Minsc said, and patted her shoulder. "He says nobody can do that, not even when they're not upset."

"You did wish to speak with the scholars," Kivan pointed out.

"And exactly that we did!" Alora exclaimed. "Imoen took us to see Shistal, but he was so mean! Not at all nice like she said he'd be! Talked to him, we did, and he didn't know Imoen and Imoen asked why not! And before you could say tittering tulips, he got angry and all furry and Eddie and Imoen burned him up!" She paused, drew a deep breath, and continued, "And he was scary before that, too! All the cats in his room, and dead, most of them were, dead like doornails and cut up! Scared me lots, he did!"

"The doppelganger claimed to be studying the physiology of felines when we encountered it," Edwin said.

"He looked exactly like Shistal! I had no idea until he opened his mouth and talked like he'd never seen me before in his life. As if Shistal would ever forget us," Imoen said, and wiped a tear from her eye. "I suppose he's dead now. And who knows how many others there are?"

_Our friends..._ "They can't all have been replaced! Hull was himself, and Karan, Parda, Winthrop..." Ember said despairingly.

"Someone is coming," Kivan said.

Moments later, the basement door opened. Tethtoril entered, followed by Hull and Fuller. Ember wondered if it really was them.

"Hello, children," Tethtoril said, "I am sorry to see you in such terrible circumstances."

"We didn't do it!" Imoen said. The First Reader nodded sagely.

"Aye, I know you well enough to see that you have been falsely accused," he said. "There is too much evidence, especially against thee, Ember. It makes an old man wonder, that a dozen guards could see you there and yet not prevent you from committing these murders. 'Tis a pity that Ulraunt cannot see the reason in that. He has sentenced you already, has he not?"

"He's ordered us sent to Baldur's Gate for our punishment," Ember said.

"With nothing even resembling a trial," Edwin added. "(Disgraceful!)"

"Indeed. There, you would certainly receive the death penalty for these actions," Tethtoril said. Alora squeaked fearfully.

"This must not happen," Tethtoril stated. "There are catacombs below the library, as old as the Keep itself. I know where the entrance is, and with luck, you will find their exit, beyond the Keep's walls."

"And you wouldn't go unarmed, either!" Fuller said, and started unlocking their cell.

"We collected your armour and stuff," Hull said. "I think we got most of it before Ulraunt's pets got to 'em." He displayed a large sack and a bundle of what appeared to be all their weapons.

"Look, Boo! They have brought Minsc's sword!" Minsc exclaimed happily.

"Thank you for this chance," Ember said as she picked her staff out of the bundle.

"It is a perilous path," Tethtoril said, "but however dangerous the catacombs may be, they are a safer alternative to Ulraunt's wrath."

"But it's dangerous in Candlekeep too!" Imoen exclaimed. "There are doppelgangers around!"

"Doppelgangers?" Tethtoril exclaimed, aghast.

"They'd replaced Shistal, and who knows who else!" Imoen said. She told them more about the discovery of Shistal's replacement as they walked down narrow corridors that smelled faintly of mould, and finished the story in front of a small door that appeared to be made from blackened oak and iron.

"This is a most alarming tale," Tethtoril said. "I would have your assistance in pursuing it, but alas, it is not to be. This is the entrance to the catacombs; I will bolt it behind you."

"Don't worry, Imoen, we'll find the doppelgangers!" Hull said. He was trying to sound cheerful, but his face looked pale in the flickering light of his torch.

"Thanks, and good luck," Imoen said.

"May the gods be with thee, Ember," the First Reader said. Ember looked into the old man's eyes.

"You knew?" she asked in a whisper.

"Aye, I knew. But unlike Ulraunt, I do not believe it must be a curse. Thine heart has always been good, and what is the blood without the heart?"

"Thank you. For everything," Ember whispered, and hugged Tethtoril farewell.

-.-.-

The trek through the catacombs was a nightmare.

A long, narrow tunnel led away from the entrance where Tethtoril had let them in, and when it eventually ended in a larger chamber, two familiar faces were there to greet them. The faces were those of Dreppin and Phlydia, but their words were twisted and hateful; 'Phlydia' accused them of stealing the books she always misplaced, and 'Dreppin' claimed they'd poisoned his cow. After a brief skirmish, two grey-skinned forms lay on the ground.

"Just like Shistal," Imoen said tearfully. "But... nobody would expect people to be here! Maybe they haven't replaced them yet?"

"There may be more doppelgangers down here. We have to find them all!" Ember said.

"Minsc and Boo will stop all doppelgangers that stand in our way and laugh in the face of Justice! Justice will laugh back!" Minsc roared. He hadn't sheathed his sword, and drops of doppelganger blood flew from the blade as he gestured with it.

It took several hours for them to work their way through the myriad of corridors, and almost every chamber held a nasty surprise in the form of a friend that cursed them before twisting into the form of a doppelganger. Ember's quarterstaff had become slick with blood, and the murderous whispers of her blood were louder than ever before. _Death!_ it sang as she rammed the butt of her staff into the face of what had looked like Hull moments ago. "Life for my friends," she whispered between gritted teeth.

After they'd killed the doppelganger that'd worn the face of Jondalar, the weaponsmaster of Candlekeep, Kivan pulled Ember aside. "You should pull back," he told her.

"But we have to kill them as quickly as possible!" Ember protested.

"Aye, but we merely need to kill them," Kivan said, and stepped aside. Behind him lay the remains of the doppelganger; a tangled, bloodied mess of bone and entrails and the occasional patch of grey skin.

"I-I did that?"

"Aye. Whilst repeatedly screaming 'stop it'. Ember, little Alora is almost more frightened of you than of the doppelgangers. The lone doppelgangers are no match for us; let us handle them for you."

Ember nodded weakly.

For the remainder of their time in the catacombs, Ember stayed in the back of the group, limiting her participation to healing larger injuries and bandaging smaller ones. Her healing spells were soon depleted, and she refused to use the taint in her blood to heal, so she was forced to resort to healing potions much sooner than she'd hoped. The familiarity of the doppelgangers was a continued strain; even though some faces were unknown, most were not. The worst was a leering version of Winthrop that said horrible things to Imoen, who killed the monster while tears streamed down her face.

After a while, they came across several ghouls near the entrance to one of the burial chambers. It was clear what'd drawn the carrion eaters there; a horrid stench came from the chamber. Fearing the worst, Ember and her friends looked inside.

The chamber's walls were lined with old coffins, just like everywhere else in the catacombs, but the floor of this room was covered with dead bodies in varying stages of decomposition. Most of them dressed in Watcher armour or scholarly robes, but there were also quite a few in nightgowns. Kivan cursed profusely, and Alora threw up in the corridor.

"Boo says that little Ember and little Imoen should come away now and not look at dead friends," Minsc said, putting a large hand on each girl's shoulder.

"He is right," Kivan said. "There is nothing we can do for them now."

They passed a few more burial chambers that smelled of recent death, then the corridor narrowed. There were no more rooms or wall decorations; the exit Tethtoril had spoken of couldn't be much farther.

The path made a sharp turn, and they found themselves face to face with two robed figures. Ember stopped dead in her tracks. _Elminster? __**Father?**_

"Stop this madness, child, I beg of thee!" the one who looked like Elminster cried out. "Thou hast soaked these halls with the blood of innocents and I cannot permit it to go further."

"Stay back! Stay where you are!" Ember cried. _It can't be him!_

"It's all right, Ember," the one who looked like Gorion said. It sounded just like him. "I didn't die that night, nor have I yet. The blade that you thought slew me had been treated with a magical poison. It left me, a living soul and a lively mind, imprisoned in a body that gave all appearance of death. It was only recently that Elminster was able to restore me."

"Sheathe your weapons and sheathe thy madness, too," the one that looked like Elminster said. "Come with us and we shall see thee, at last, to safety."

"Please, child, I have loved you too much to lose you now," the one that looked like Gorion said.

"You lie!" Ember shouted. "You're not him!"

Imoen raised a wand and fired a jet of flame at the one in red robes. The robes caught fire, and the figure within them shrieked in pain. "Elminster would barely notice that!" Imoen yelled.

"Excellent thinking!" Edwin exclaimed. "(I wish I'd thought of it first!)"

"Thsss, then, fleshlings!" the uninjured one snarled. "Go mad, if you will, and feel the rasp of our claws against your mind!" Gorion's face melted away into grey features, which were obliterated moments later as Edwin and Imoen simultaneously cast fireballs at the two doppelgangers.

-.-.-

The fake Elminster and the fake Gorion were the last doppelgangers Ember's group found. Beyond that point, the smooth walls of the catacombs gave way to roughly hewn tunnels that held giant spiders, which the group did their best to avoid. A large chamber in the middle of the disorienting cluster of tunnels contained several statues. Taking the sculptures as a sign of basilisks, they gave the chamber a wide berth.

Ember was certain that they were hopelessly lost, but after crossing a narrow stream, Kivan claimed to be able to smell the ocean, and led them in the direction of the scent. Before long, the rock opened before them and revealed a dark grey evening sky, and gusts of sea-scented wind struck their faces. They staggered out of the cave. Its opening was hidden amidst a jumble of rocks on the seashore, some distance south from Candlekeep; looking north, they could barely make out the tower of the library.

"I'm hungry," Alora whimpered; it was the first thing she'd said in hours.

"Let us eat here and then find a safe shelter for the night," Kivan said wearily.

Ember sat down on a boulder, rested her head in her hands, and wept.


	64. Chapter 63: Picking up the Pieces

**Chapter 63: Picking up the Pieces**

The night after fleeing Candlekeep, as she and her friends slept under the branches of a dense cluster of trees, Ember dreamed of running.

She didn't know who she was running from, or where she was running to. All she knew was that they were after her, hunting her like the monster she was. She would never be free of them, and rightfully so; murder coursed through her veins.

"Accept your birthright, and your foes will be crushed beneath your heel," the cold, cruel voice from her other dreams whispered in her mind. "You have no choice."

Ember stared straight ahead and kept running, but her foot got tangled in something, and she fell flat on her belly. There was a dark pool in front of her; as she started to get up, she noticed her reflection in the pool. Its skin was white as a corpse, and its eyes were black, blacker than night, as black as the flaw - the essence of murder - she had seen in herself.

"The essence of Bhaal within you cannot be ignored," the voice said. "Death is bred in your bones."

Ember stared at her ghastly reflection. How could that be all that she was?

"You have no choice but to embrace your destiny," the voice said. "Obey, or be destroyed."

_If I truly have no choice, why does it have to try to convince me?_ The voice, which had terrified Ember in previous dreams, was starting to annoy her. She'd never obeyed it before; what made it think that knowing its source would make her heed it now?

She had never obeyed it before.

She had not followed her blood; instead, she had wrested healing gifts from it. Life from death.

The reflection did not show her true nature; it only showed part of it.

"You're wrong," Ember said out loud. "It is you who must obey me." She looked into the eyes of her reflection, and reached her hand out towards the pond. The reflection's hand reached for hers. Their palms met; the reflection's skin was bitterly cold to the touch.

"You cannot resist!" the voice protested, but Ember didn't pay attention to it. She grasped her reflection's hand, and squeezed. The hand warmed, and its pale skin began to turn a more lifelike colour. Tendrils of light appeared in the reflection's eyes, penetrating and enveloping the blackness. For a moment, the eyes blazed with golden fire, then the irises faded to the dark green that they were supposed to be.

Satisfied that her reflection was true, Ember got to her feet and stepped away from the pool. The voice was still hurling threats at her, but it had dwindled to little more than a whisper. It spoke of others who would listen where she had not, others who would embrace what she had rejected, and others who would be her death; then, it faded away to nothingness.

Ember opened her eyes.

The sky above was covered with dark, rippling clouds, each of them touched with pink and gold, lit from below by the still unrisen sun. Around her, the treetops swayed drowsily in a gentle breeze, and a few dry leaves fluttered through the air, some of them alighting on her sleeping companions. A comforting calmness filled Ember as she gazed at the sky.

Moving quietly, she got up from her bedroll and walked between the drowsy trees, gently touching the trunk of each tree as she passed it, relishing in the slumbering strength she could feel beneath her fingertips. She made her way out of the little grove, and sat down on a rocky ledge that offered a clear view to the east. Closing her eyes, she let her spirit commune with the world around her.

-.-.-

Some time after sunrise, just as the smell of cooking began to waft out of the cluster of trees, Imoen sat down on the ledge beside Ember.

"Hey, you," Ember said.

"Hey, you too!" Imoen said. "How are you feeling? You weren't meditating, were you? You were so quiet."

"I was just thinking," Ember said. "It feels almost as if a whirlwind came and whisked us away, doesn't it?"

"Yeah... it's as if yesterday morning was a hundred years ago," Imoen said.

"How are the others doing?"

"I think they're all right. Minsc took Alora to pick some apples - there's a pretty tree with big red apples not too far away! - and Kivan's cooking and as usual, Eddie's reading. Alora was a bit down, so Minsc let her carry Boo, but I think the rest are handling it. And if you're worried they're upset with you, don't be; none of this is your fault, you know. Alora was scared stiff of you last night, but she asked me if you were feeling better today. I told her yes even though I wasn't really sure."

"Well, I am," Ember said with a small smile. She'd hoped their friends would take things in stride, even as a small part of her had feared they'd reject her. "Immy, I had another of those dreams last night. This one turned out differently, though."

"What happened?" Imoen asked, shifting so that she fully faced Ember.

"I was running away from everyone, and that creepy voice told me I had to obey."

"Obey? How?"

"By going forth and sowing chaos and murdering everyone in sight, I guess." Ember shrugged. "I refused, and told it that **I** was in charge of me. And you know what? It seemed to work. The voice went away, and the dream ended. No screaming or anything."

"That really was different," Imoen said. "It seems like good thing, doesn't it?"

"It does," Ember agreed. She wasn't about to delude herself into thinking that this malicious thing in her would never bother her again, but she had stood up to it, and it'd backed down. Unlike the previous dreams, this one had given her hope. "I think I'm coping with the whole... child of Bhaal thing, today. I never expected I'd have a dead god as a parent, but I can't say it came as a complete surprise in the end, either."

"You know," Imoen said," Bhaal wasn't dead when you were born, and he was a human before he was a god. So you're not **that** unnatural!"

Ember laughed. "I guess not," she said, and then fell serious. "That dream was as real -"

"Unreally real."

"You know what I meant! It was as 'real' as the others. The taint in me is real. And if I don't fight it, it'll turn me into something horrible. I don't want to let that happen."

"You won't. I know you won't," Imoen said. "And I'll help you."

Ember leaned over and hugged her friend. "Thanks, Immy," she said.

The two girls sat quietly for a while, looking at the view. Imoen broke the silence first. "I hope Puffguts is all right," she said.

"I hope so too." Ember sighed. _And Karan, and Parda, and everyone else._ Part of her wished she'd tried to recognize some of the dead bodies they'd found, but most of her was glad she hadn't. Still, some of their close friends were bound to have been amongst the doppelganger victims. "We have to find out what happened back there."

Imoen nodded.

"And we have to tell them where those bodies are."

Another nod.

"But we can't go back. Or forward. Ulraunt is bound to have sent out an arrest order for us all."

And another nod.

"So we have to clear our names before we can do anything."

"Maybe Duke Eltan can help," Imoen suggested. "We could tell him what happened and have him get things sorted out! I'm sure he'd believe our side of the story."

"They'll want to arrest us in the Gate too, though," Ember said.

"But the duke is the head of the Fist, so even if that happens, we'll get to talk with him! After all, he sent us there so he wouldn't let us be arrested and not come and find out what we found out!" Imoen pointed out.

"That's true," Ember conceded. "Let's talk with Kivan and see what he thinks." She had a feeling he'd like the idea; it'd mean staying close to Tazok and Sarevok.

Then it struck her; Sarevok, whose eyes could burn with golden flames, who knew Alaundo's prophecies by heart, and who was staging who knew how much trouble on the Sword Coast, wanted her dead. He knew of her heritage, and he wanted her dead for it.

"I think Sarevok is one, too," she blurted out. "I think he's another Bhaalspawn. That'd explain everything!"

Imoen stared at her. "That's... hey, it would, wouldn't it!" she exclaimed.

Ember got to her feet. "Let's go find Kivan!" she said, offering Imoen a hand up.

It was time to make plans.

-.-.-

Edwin slowly turned the pages of the book in his lap without really looking at them. It was not that the tome of conjuration methods wasn't eternally fascinating, even after many years' study, but the conversation that Imoen and Ember were having just within earshot of the tree he'd chosen to sit under was far more interesting at the moment.

His hard work had paid off; Ember was indeed one of the Bhaalspawn, and she seemed to be a far better candidate for Thay than an oaf like Sarevok would be (if he even was a one, that was). Yes, she would accept help to control her destiny rather than run rampant; help that Thay would offer her in return for her services. His superiors would be proud.

Their current fugitive status was a nuisance, of course, but it was not an insurmountable obstacle. With his impressive array of skills, it should be easy for him to report to Denak (and wipe that insufferable smugness off his face!), leave the country and make his way home unscathed. Best of all, he'd never have to see these barbaric lands and its simian people again.

It was a pity about Imoen, though. Despite her lack of focus and diligence, she showed promise; indeed, her mind was much sharper than appearances suggested. He'd miss watching her progress in the arcane arts. Just imagine what she could have accomplished with proper Thayvian schooling!

So, Ember thought Sarevok was a Bhaalspawn? He would be hard pressed to disagree, considering what he knew of the man, but it was still unproven. And it made no difference to him; he'd selected his candidate. He turned another page in his book and pretended to be deeply absorbed in its contents as Imoen and Ember ran past him towards the campfire, where Kivan was cooking something he doubted would be palatable.

Both girls had displayed admirable mental flexibility in the conversation he'd just overheard, which was a vast improvement from last night; Imoen had cried the entire evening, even when she'd pretended not to. The sight had bothered him enough that he hadn't been able to concentrate properly on his spellbook. (It must have been because of the sniffling racket. Yes.)

Maybe it wouldn't be worth the risk of sneaking away from the Sword Coast as a fugitive. Besides, something rankled in him at the thought of having to hide like that. This would be Edwin Odesseiron's proudest accomplishment (so far), and he would not be forced to cower even as he accepted his accolades! Besides, he might want to return to these lands one day (unfathomable as it was at the moment). Yes, it'd probably be better if he were to stay with the group until their names were cleared. His assistance would be valuable, and the Bhaalspawn would be more positively disposed towards him as a result.

How about if he merely were to suggest that Ember could flee to Thay? Much simpler and faster, and how much better to present his prize himself! He could offer to let Imoen come along as well. (Excellent thinking!)

But Imoen would probably suspect an ulterior motive in the offer. She was smart (damn her), and she might link the offer to the 'artifact' story he'd fed her (damn him). Also, they'd want to bring the fool and the other two along. So it would probably be easier and better to just clear their names and then inform Denak of his discovery.

Maybe they'd let him keep Imoen as an apprentice as a reward?

Let an outsider in on the arts of Thay? Preposterous.

If he timed his revelation right, they just might.

He was startled out of his reflections by a rustling sound. He cursed at the disruption, but it was merely Imoen, who approached him with a wooden bowl in her hand. "Hey, want some breakfast?" she asked.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Porridge with apples. It's better than it sounds."

He mutely accepted the proffered bowl and sampled its contents. (She was right.)

"We're going to try to talk to Duke Eltan about this mess," she said. "Are you still coming with us?"

"Of course I am! I am also a wanted man, in case you'd forgotten."

"I hadn't, but I thought maybe you'd found your artifact and wanted to go home."

He stared at her. For a moment, he wondered if he'd been thinking out loud again. "No," he lied.

She smiled. "That's good, then."

"Go eat your own breakfast," he grumbled.

Edwin watched her as she walked back to the campfire, stepping lightly over tussocks and tree roots as if she were dancing around them. She was far too sharp for her own good. It'd be folly to leave such a gem behind in these barbaric lands! Yes, he would definitely have to pick the time and manner of his report so as to allow that possibility, he mused as he eagerly attacked his food.


	65. Chapter 64: Return to Baldur's Gate

**Chapter 64: Return to Baldur's Gate**

The days following the group's escape were spent avoiding roads and people.

They had good reason to stay out of sight, as they had discovered on the second day out from Candlekeep; that afternoon, Imoen had snuck into Beregost, dressed in a hooded cloak and Ember's leather armour. The others had waited in a small copse of spruce trees slightly north of town, but Kivan had followed her closely enough to watch as she strolled through the town square. She had gone into a bakery and bought a loaf of bread before walking leisurely past the houses on the outskirts of town. Kivan had escorted her back to the others, where she had told them all that their capture, especially Ember's, was the town crier's new priority.

And so they kept to the woods.

In the tenday that followed, Kivan led them through the edge of Cloakwood, taking care to find paths where there were none and to avoid areas he knew to be the hunting grounds of the rich and bored. Imoen had adapted to their rough trail by stowing her mage robe in her pack, opting to travel in tunic and leggings instead, but Edwin had insisted upon wearing his robes. As a result, the wizard spent many an eve with needle and thread, patching his robe.

They had fled with very little food in their packs, so whenever they came across a fruit tree or a patch of berries, they stopped to forage, and when opportunity arose, Kivan and Minsc would leave the others to go hunting. There was little large game to be found, but rabbits were plentiful and easily snared. Those they caught were carefully skinned and cleaned, and Minsc and Alora cooked them in a stew when the group struck camp in the evenings.

With the horror of the catacombs behind them, spirits had lifted considerably in their little group. Alora was her usual chatty self again in no time; she and Imoen would compete to see which of them could move the most quietly through the forest, and Alora would constantly lose by stopping to gush in loud whispers over some pretty spot she'd discovered. By the fourth day, Imoen had recovered enough to tease the Red Wizard again, and Minsc recommenced talking about friendship and heroics and hamsters.

Even Ember appeared to be doing better than Kivan had expected. She spent more time meditating than before, and she spoke very little, even with Imoen. During the day, she'd move quietly and look around constantly, but she did not do this in a watchful manner. Instead, she appeared to be taking in her surroundings, soaking up the presence of every tree and leaf they passed by. Silent though she was, she seemed to be at peace with herself. Kivan thought he might understand her behaviour, but he did not ask.

They made steady progress towards Baldur's Gate, but their main issue persisted; the matter of how to enter the city undetected remained a problem despite much discussion. If they could find no poorly guarded side entrances, Kivan feared they might have to seek a sewer exit, which - in addition to its foulness - could be far from the city and quite possibly underwater. One option was to attempt to get Imoen past the guards alone and let her parlay with the duke, as it'd be easier to get one person inside than six. Kivan would have offered to be the one to enter the city, as he, despite being an elf, had no visible distinctions that compared to Imoen's red hair, but if this were to be their solution, they needed their envoy to be able to talk them out of prison. And in that, Imoen was vastly more qualified than he.

Kivan was mulling over this conundrum on the rainy evening that'd brought them to the outskirts of the Wood of Sharp Teeth - they were now less than two hours' march from the city - when he got a distinct feeling of being watched. He quickly scanned their lightly forested surroundings, and there, on a large rock embedded in a hillside to their east, sat a large wolf. It seemed to be contemplating them. He locked eyes with the wolf for a few moments, then it slowly got up from its perch, yawned, and ran off.

"How odd," Ember muttered behind him. "It wasn't afraid of us at all."

"It may have interacted with people before. Be on your guard," Kivan said. He veered off the animal trail they'd been following and led the others deeper into the forest. His fears were confirmed a few minutes later, when the distinct sounds of people filtered through from the area they'd been in.

"We are being followed," he whispered. Then, a faint 'H-hello?' came from behind them.

"Is that Khalid?" Imoen said.

"Sounds like him! It does, it does!" Alora chirped.

"Minsc and Boo will find out!" Minsc declared, and sprinted back the way they'd come.

"(The lumbering oaf will get us all killed,)" Edwin lamented, but nobody heeded him; Kivan knew well that Minsc could move almost as silently as an elf if he chose to.

Soon, the large ranger returned, followed by Khalid and Jaheira.

"It was you!" Imoen cried happily. "How'd you find us?"

Kivan suspected he knew. "I saw a wolf," he told the half-elven druid.

"And the wolf saw you," Jaheira replied with a small grin. "We had news of your misfortune six days ago. I suspected you might come here, so we have been searching for you ever since. You took longer than I expected, though. And no, wizard, you need not look at me like that; we are not here to bring you before the law."

"If you c-come with us, we can t-talk out of this rain," Khalid said, smiling.

-.-.-

They were taken to a secluded log cabin. Another Harper, a short human of middle age who introduced himself as Delthyr from Baldur's Gate, awaited them there.

"I have heard much of you lately," Delthyr said as he stirred a large pot that hung over the fireplace. "You've been accused of murdering the leaders of the Iron Throne. Everyone believes that you are agents of Amn, and that your persecution of the Iron Throne was just a cover up. The new Iron Throne president, Sarevok Anchev, has placed a price on all of your heads, and the Flaming Fist has a warrant for your arrest. Before I continue, tell me, are you guilty?"

"No," Ember said.

"I t-told you so," Khalid said, sounding pleased.

"Sarevok framed us," Ember continued. "He... he had doppelgangers infiltrate Candlekeep, and he was there himself. Tethtoril helped us escape through the catacombs, and we warned him, but we don't know what happened after that. The catacombs..." The girl made a choked noise, and fell silent.

"There were dozens of doppelgangers in the catacombs beneath the keep, and there were several bodies. We disposed of the doppelgangers we found, but we do not know how many of the girls' friends were replaced by the foul creatures," Kivan said.

"And we can't go back and ask, either. Can you help us?" Imoen said pleadingly. Her eyes shone with moisture.

The two half-elves looked at each other. "Khalid and I can investigate the matter," Jaheira said.

"Thank you!" Ember and Imoen said, both speaking at the same time.

"What you have told us is most disconcerting," Delthyr said. "From what our network has gathered, the Iron Throne is preparing to make a grab for power in Baldur's Gate."

"And Sarevok is now the Iron Throne, correct? (Of course it is correct,)" Edwin said.

"Indeed. There have been other changes in town. Duke Entar Silvershield was assassinated in his own home, and Grand Duke Eltan has come down with some mysterious ailment; no one knows how long he has to live. There is a gaping hole in the power structure of the city, and we believe Sarevok seeks to fill it."

"But Duke Eltan was fine less than a month ago!" Ember protested.

"So he was," Delthyr said with a sigh. "Eltan's healer has been unable to discover what has been ailing him; it must be magical in nature."

"Is Scar in charge of the Fist in his absence?" Kivan asked.

Delthyr shook his head. "Commander Scar was cut down on the streets a few nights ago."

Alora gasped.

"The Fist is now run by Angelo," Delthyr continued. "He has an ill reputation - we suspect he has accepted bribes more than once - and would never have gained this position if Scar were still alive."

Kivan frowned. Good men were falling like leaves in the city, and from the sound of it, rot was taking their place.

"(This is unacceptable! I refuse to have walked through all that for nothing!)" Edwin complained.

"Who killed Scar? Boo demands to know!" Minsc bellowed.

"Er... The signature mask and stiletto of the Shadow Thieves were left on Scar's body - and on Duke Silvershield's, for that matter," Delthyr said.

"That's just far too convenient," Imoen muttered. Kivan agreed; such evidence could easily have been forged.

"We were going to have the duke expose the false charges against us," Ember said. "With him and Scar gone, we will never be cleared. What can we do now?"

"What evidence is there against you? We could attempt to clear you in Candlekeep," Jaheira said.

"All Ulraunt has is the word of Sarevok and some Watchers that I don't think were Watchers at all," Ember said bitterly, "but he will never believe I was innocent. Maybe you can do some good for Imoen and the others, though?"

"We will t-try," Khalid said.

"For now, we can offer you a hideout in town," Denthyr said. "We do not wish to see Sarevok in a position of power in Baldur's Gate, and neither do you, we think. You know much that may be of use to us; we may assist each other, perhaps."

Ember glanced questioningly at Kivan. He nodded; it seemed to be the best, nay, the only thing they could do without running away and losing the trail of both Tazok and Sarevok.

"It's a deal," Ember said.

-.-.-

After breakfast the following morning, while Denthyr had the grumbling Red Wizard swear a vow to not in any way expose or endanger the Harpers, Kivan saw Ember talk quietly with Jaheira in a corner of the cabin. The older druid appeared to be displeased about something, but Ember continued talking, and Jaheira's face eventually relaxed. When the half-elf left, the girl related to him that she'd told Jaheira what her heritage was, and that she'd assured the older druid that she could handle it. Then she lowered her voice and told him that she couldn't have handled it on her own, and thanked him for taking care of herself and Imoen. Kivan squeezed her shoulder and smiled.

Khalid and Jaheira left for Candlekeep before noon. Edwin watched them as they walked away, and wondered out loud how they'd pay the entrance fee. Denthyr told the wizard to mind his own business, and Imoen speculated that they had a bunch of Harper minions that ran around Faerun carrying valuable tomes for people who wanted to go to Candlekeep. The wizard scowled at her, but said nothing.

The group left the cabin a few hours later. Denthyr led them to a road that led to Baldur's Gate, where they waited for an hour until a hay wagon arrived. Kivan and his companions crawled into the hay. It was cramped and dusty, but after a while, both they and the hay settled enough that the ride was not entirely uncomfortable. The wagon creaked unchecked over the bridge into Baldur's Gate, and slowly advanced through the streets.

They clambered out of the hay in a small courtyard near the Temple of Helm, and were shown into a slightly run down house by a tall elf with grizzled hair.

"My name is Entillis Fulsom," he said, arms spread wide. "Welcome to your temporary home!"


	66. Chapter 65: Unexpected Allies

**Chapter 65: Unexpected Allies**

The Harper safehouse held a secret; a small garden was nestled in its back yard, walled in by the neighbouring house and the city wall. It was barely large enough to hold a single pear tree, a patch of vegetables, and a simple wooden bench, but its complete seclusion made it as safe as the house itself.

Ember sat on the bench, running her feet through the small piles of fallen leaves that'd collected on the ground and all but completely covered the few remaining tubers in the vegetable patch. It was the evening of their third day in the safehouse, and she was starting to feel restless. There'd be no news from Khalid and Jaheira for at least a tenday, and even if they should manage to make Ulraunt see some reason, it'd be beyond their power to have Sarevok lift the bounty. _Then again,_ she reminded herself, _it's not as if that's really changed. It's just that it's a public bounty, now._

The news they had been able to gather with the help of Entillis and his people was nothing but troubling. The mine in Nashkel may have been cleansed, but there was still an iron shortage, and it seemed everyone in the city was convinced either that Amn was behind the shortage and meant to weaken the Gate for an invasion, or that Amn blamed the Gate for the shortage and would invade because of it. At the Low Lantern, one could place bets as to when Duke Eltan would die. And in every inn in town, there was at least one patron who would praise Sarevok to the heavens for how he'd generously offered to supply the city with the arms and armour needed for the coming war. It was an ill-kept secret that Sarevok was considered for dukedom, and somehow, everyone knew the decision would be reached within the next tenday.

And there didn't seem to be a single thing Ember and her friends could do about it.

Most of them had stayed hidden in the safehouse; only Alora and Kivan had gone outside, swaddled in dull patchwork cloaks. The two of them had passed by Duke Eltan's home the previous day, and Alora had made friends with every woman and child in that neighbourhood. They had told Alora that the poor duke was now in solitary confinement; He was too ill for any visitors, his family had been sent to Waterdeep, and the house had only a minimal amount of guards, all for fear of spreading his mysterious illness. The only one who saw the duke was Rashad, the elderly physician, who worked night and day to find a cure. It was all very melodramatic, and something about the story felt very wrong. Delthyr had suggested the illness was magical; what kind of magical disease could be contagious?

"And the important question is this;" she told the pear tree, "what made the duke get sick in the first place?"

"Good question," a soft female voice said from above. Ember jumped to her feet; looking up, she saw a slight figure in dark clothes crouching on the roof of the safehouse.

"Who are you?!" Ember demanded, her heart pounding.

"You may call me Tamoko," the woman said. "I do not presume to be your friend, or even someone you should trust, but fate demands that I place myself at your disposal. I apologize for not being more open, but these are troubled times. If I could be permitted to speak for a moment, I believe I have something you would want to hear. Perhaps we could help each other?"

"Say what you must. I'll listen," Ember said, warily eyeing the woman.

"I shall explain myself in further detail when I have time. Until then, I have but one thing to say: the one who claims to heal Duke Eltan's sickness is also the one who breeds it," Tamoko said. "No doubt you have the wherewithal to follow through on it: your very nature gives you above average competence."

Ember stepped backwards, moving closer to the garden door. "What would you know of my nature?" she asked.

Tamoko smiled. "I know much of you; perhaps more than you know yourself. I think you feel the pull, and I think you strain against it still," she said. "There are three things that are strength incarnate: there is love of life, there is fear of death, and there is family. A family that loves death would have a strong pull indeed. Can you... feel it? Can you feel him? He hates you, you know."

_She's with him!_ "Sarevok hates me for being born," Ember replied.

"You were born his rival. How could he not hate you? You exist, and chaos will be sown. That is the way it was intended, though I hope to change it."

"You follow him. Why would you want to help me?"

Tamoko drew back a little. "My reasons are my own," she said stiffly. "The only thing that matters is that you must go to Duke Eltan. Protect him from his own healer." The evening bell tolled, and the woman crept towards the far edge of the roof. "I must go. We shall speak again, and I shall have something to ask of you." She jumped down into the street and was gone.

-.-.-

"We cannot trust this woman!" Edwin bellowed. "(It's a trap; it has to be!)"

"But what if she told the truth?" Imoen asked.

"A nice man, Rashad is!" Alora exclaimed. "He'd never ever ever want to hurt Eltan!"

"Perhaps the pay was too good," Kivan said darkly. "Perhaps it is no longer the Rashad we met."

"Boo will smell him and see if he is a doppelganger! And if he is, Boo will go for his eyes with little claws and teeth!" Minsc proclaimed.

"No, Minsc," Ember said. "If it is a trap, they'd recognize you right away." She looked around at her companions. "I don't trust Tamoko, but I don't really think this is a ruse. And if it were, it'd be to catch me, not the rest of you."

"Trap or no, the matter must be investigated. I will go," Kivan said.

"Me too!" Imoen and Alora both said. "I'll disguise my hair so that won't be a problem," Imoen added.

"(Folly,)" Edwin muttered. "The great Edwin Odesseiron will go also! (If only to prevent wasteful deaths...)"

"Let's ask Entillis if his people want to help!" Imoen suggested.

As the group spent the rest of the evening laying plans, Ember's mood lifted. Finally, they were doing something!

-.-.-

The following afternoon, five cloaked figures made their way to Duke Eltan's front door. The shortest of them reached up and knocked; a tired-looking guard who was barely more than a kid opened the door.

"Yes?" the guard asked.

"Um, excuse me, but we brought a gift for Duke Eltan," Imoen said, holding up a basket of honey jars and doing her best to look demure, glancing shyly at the guard from under a tangled mop of black hair. She wasn't originally going to cut it, but after Edwin had made such a fuss about wearing an outfit that was neither red nor a robe the previous night, she'd decided to set a good example and improve her disguise, and had chopped off at least half of her freshly darkened hair. Now it was no more than four inches long all over and stuck out every which way when she ruffled it. She'd never cut it quite this short before, but it had turned out very cute-looking, she thought. Besides, it'd been worth it just to see Edwin's shocked expression, she mused as the guard went to ask someone else inside the duke's house if it'd be all right for them to come inside.

"Alora, go," Kivan muttered quietly.

"Aye aye, captain!" Alora whispered cheerfully, and snuck in through the half-open door.

A few moments later, the guard returned. "You can't see the duke, on account of his sickness," he said, "but you can leave the honey here in the foyer, and we'll take it to Rashad."

"Very well," Kivan said. The guard let them in, and they followed him through a very nice hallway with tapestries on the wall. He showed them to a table, they put the honey basket on it, and then he showed them out of the house. Imoen did a tiny wave at the guard as he closed the door, mostly just to make Edwin grumble.

A few minutes later, one of the servant entrances opened, and Alora's smiling face peered out of the doorway. "Hey there! This way, quick as cauliflowers!" she exclaimed in a whisper.

"Is it safe?" Wanoldar, the Harper who'd come with them, asked.

"Oh yes! Almost empty, the house is! Now come!" Alora replied. They hurried after her in through the entrance and up a flight of stone steps to the upper floor and down a somewhat dusty hallway with several doors and staircases leading to it. They got to the largest entrance, a set of double oaken doors, and stopped; the doors were ajar, and inside, they could see Rashad standing at a bench. Apparently, he was working on some potion that contained a lot of nasty ingredients.

Kivan removed the hood that covered his face, and walked into the room. "Greetings, Rashad," he said.

The healer made a sharp, hissing noise and turned around so fast he almost knocked over his work. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" he demanded. Listening from behind the door with the others, Imoen frowned; Rashad should have remembered Kivan.

"We have come to protect Duke Eltan," Kivan said in a low voice. "You are not Rashad."

The healer sneered at Kivan. "So, you've figured out the truth, meat. It will do you little good. GUARDS! Before my guards get here, I should be able to deal with you myself."

_Except that he's not alone,_ Imoen thought with a small grin. She stepped out from behind the door, raised her hands and shouted a few syllables, sending a cluster of magic missiles over Kivan's shoulder and straight into the fake Rashad's face. There was a howl of pain and surprise, and the fake Rashad clutched his face and turned into a doppelganger. Kivan struck before it could recover, knocking it down with his hammer. More magic missiles flew from Edwin's hands, and Kivan hit it again. The doppelganger twitched a few times, then lay still.

"Halt, in the name of the Fist!"

Three guards stood at the top of the main staircase. One of them was the young one that'd answered the door. All of them had drawn their swords.

"Wait, friends," Wanoldar said, raising his hand. "Treachery is afoot. Behold the nature of the duke's healer: a doppelganger!" He gestured at the grey-skinned figure that lay slumped on the floor. One of the guards stepped backwards, and his face seemed to flicker for a moment.

"Another one, he is!" Alora shouted. "Stop him we must!"

The two other guards turned towards their companion just in time to see his skin turn grey. They shouted a few things that would have had Winthrop throw them out of the inn in Candlekeep, and cut the fake guard down.

"Excellent work, friends," Wanoldar told the panting guards. Imoen was glad the young one wasn't a doppelganger; he seemed like a nice guy.

"What... what is the meaning of this?!" the older guard asked.

"Where are your loyalties?" the Harper asked. "Are you Angelo's men, or Duke Eltan's?"

"Duke Eltan's," both of them replied, looking even more confused than before.

"That's great!" Imoen said. "See, we're trying to save the duke's life, but we think Angelo might be in on the plot to kill him, so we have to get the duke out of here and take him somewhere safe without Angelo finding out or he'll just try to kill him again. So, will you help us?"

"Er... I suppose so," the young one said.

"Mylord!" the older guard exclaimed, and ran past Imoen and Edwin and Wanoldar to where Kivan was staggering out of the duke's room, all but carrying Duke Eltan. The duke looked horrible; he could have not slept for a month and looked better.

"I have given him... healing potions," Kivan gasped. "There is poison, I think."

"Harbormaster," the duke groaned. "Safe there." The older guard helped Kivan support the Duke, and they gently walked him out of the room.

"Look!" Alora exclaimed, holding up a potion. "Poison, is it? But I found no papers, not a one."

"That's all right," Imoen told her. "Now, let's figure out how to get the Duke out of here without anyone catching us."

-.-.-

Nobody took notice when two guards escorted a group of travellers, some so drunk that they had to lean on each other, across town later that night. Some might have thought it a disgrace, some may have muttered about the excesses of youth, but it was far from the first time the townsfolk had seen rowdy drunkards, and it would not be the last. At least this group appeared to be well in hand; one could only hope a night in a cell would do the poor souls some good.


	67. Chapter 66: Tamoko's Treachery

**Chapter 66: Tamoko's Treachery**

The next morning, when Ember went to the safehouse's garden to meditate, Tamoko was already there. The small woman was waiting for her on the wooden bench, and greeted her with a slight smile.

"My information was good, no?" Tamoko asked. "You can see that I know much of what is happening to the city. With Eltan safe, now thoughts must turn to who is responsible. I have things that must be said, things that are important to us both."

"Tell me," Ember said.

The woman silently pulled a bundle of parchment out from under her cloak, and handed it to Ember. She opened the bundle, and found two invitations to Sarevok's coronation, two days hence. The invitations were elaborately designed and embossed with gold. "Two days..." Ember muttered, and looked at the scroll they'd been wrapped in. It was a short letter, spattered with reddish-brown specks of dried blood, and it spoke of an assassination in the palace on the night of the coronation; an assassination that would involve doppelgangers as well. The letter was signed by Sarevok.

"Slythe and Krystin were two unsavoury beings who reveled in the violence Sarevok allowed them to commit. They were the murderers of Duke Silvershield," Tamoko said in response to Ember's questioning glance. "Sarevok invited them to take part in the next step in his plan, but I have made certain that they will not attend. He will not notice their absence."

"He's going to assassinate Duke Belt and Duchess Liia once he's crowned, isn't he?"

"He will be the only Grand Duke left. He will take control of Baldur's Gate with an iron fist, and then he will march to war; Amn will only be the first. He seeks to destroy everyone, not only you."

_Chaos will be sown in their footsteps._ Ember felt sick to her stomach. "Why?" she asked faintly.

"The child becomes the father, or so it desperately wishes," Tamoko said; there was a bitter edge to her voice. "You have felt the hunger, heard the offerings of power? Sarevok thinks they are true, and so he seeks a senseless war, and a slaughter of a scale so grand as to defy description. He thinks it will launch him to... to what?" She turned and looked Ember straight in the eyes. "I do not believe he will survive his plan, it is all based on conjecture at best. He feels that he has been chosen, and that he will become... more than he is. I do not share this belief. Gods are not known for bequeathing their powers, especially if they have foreseen their deaths."

"There has to be a way to stop him!"

"The Fist will not touch him; they are all but his already. However, he has not yet risen so far that he cannot be discredited in the eyes of the Grand Dukes, if they were to be presented with sufficient proof of his actions. I can tell you where to find such evidence - it will clear the names of you and your friends, even as it condemns his. But he will not give up easily. He will fight for his dream, and you, his sibling, may be the only one able to defeat him." Tamoko sighed, and for a moment, she seemed much older than she was. "My request is this: I charge you to defeat Sarevok. You must destroy his plans and stop his scheme in its tracks. You must strip him of the belief that he can succeed in this path he follows. You must do this for me, and you must also leave him his life. I will... I will help him to live his life as a man, not as the god he thinks he can be."

Ember looked at Tamoko. How much had it cost the woman to betray Sarevok like this? How much had he changed to drive her to do such a thing? And was there really any chance that she could turn him away from his path? _Nobody'll know if she doesn't get the chance to try._ "I shall do my best to stop him, and will do what I can to see that he lives," she said.

"I thank you," Tamoko said quietly. "Sarevok takes pleasure from keeping track of his own deviousness. He has a diary which details everything, and he keeps much of his correspondence with it. You can find this diary in his new offices atop the Iron Throne base. He does not spend his nights there, and the base is poorly guarded as of late, as Sarevok has slowly drained it of resources. Here," she held out a small key, "this key will open the servants' entrances."

"One more question," Ember said as she accepted the key, "where can I find Tazok?"

"Tazok?" Tamoko spat. "That disgusting creature is Sarevok's right hand in all the hidden matters. I cannot tell you his exact whereabouts - not yet - but know that he is here, in the city. Where Sarevok goes, Tazok follows."

"I understand, I think," Ember said. "Thank you for your help."

"I... I must go. He cannot know I have helped you." Tamoko bowed slightly with folded hands, climbed up on the roof with the aid of the rainwater barrel, and disappeared over the rooftops.

Ember glanced at the bundle of parchment in her hands. The documents all but spelled out that if she didn't act within the next two days, it'd be beyond her power to stop him.

There was no choice, really.

"Back to the Iron Throne it is, I guess," she quietly told the pear tree.

-.-.-

Imoen and Alora scouted ahead in the Iron Throne base that afternoon, dressed as servants and using the servants' entrance. When they rejoined the others in the early evening, they could report that the building was even less protected than Tamoko had implied; they hadn't seen a single guard on the inside, and not many others, either. There was bound to be someone guarding the documents, though, and it was quickly decided that it would be best if they all went together and fought together. Ember and Minsc were also to come with them; anyone caught in what Alora called a 'good old burglary' would be arrested whether or not they were recognized, and Minsc was adamant that his friends not run into the mouth of evil without his sword to cut out evil's tongue for them. And a burglary it would be, as nobody could think of a way to get six armed people inside in disguise a second time; not with things in disarray the way they seemed to be.

That evening, Ember and her companions snuck into the complex through the servants' entrance, hiding their weapons under thick, dark cloaks supplied by the Harpers.

"Jumping junipers!" Alora exclaimed as they entered the main foyer, which was devoid of people. Her voice echoed across the room. To Ember's relief, they were alone, just like Imoen had thought they'd be.

"Look at all the dust," Imoen pointed out as they passed some of the statues.

"Yes, there has been a definite lapse of maintenance here. (Distasteful,)" Edwin muttered.

"Boo says it smells of empty here. He wonders if there is anyone inside at all," Minsc said.

"Hopefully only whoever is guarding the documents upstairs," Ember replied.

"Aye. And the sooner we are done, the better. Follow me," Kivan concluded, and led them all up the marble stairs.

They met nobody until they reached the third floor, where two men were rummaging through one of the offices. One of them stood over a chest with a bundle of parchments in his hands, and the other was filling a bag with coins. The man with the parchments noticed the party first.

"Who are you? Have you business here?" the man asked in a demanding tone, but then he appeared to change his mind, and shrugged. "Ah, what does it matter?"

Imoen stepped forward and flashed a wide grin at the men. "Looks like you had the same idea we had," she said.

The man with the coins shrugged. "Help yourselves. The coffers are nearly empty anyway."

"When I think of where we'd be without Sarevok... things were going so well until he took over!" the man with the parchments muttered.

"Yeah, it's a shame, isn't it?" Imoen said.

"A shame? It's an outrage!" the other man growled, and shoved another handful of coins into his sack. "He's used gold like copper, given away our iron stockpiles, and now that he's milked us dry, he's cast us aside! I wouldn't be surprised if he marches the Flaming Fist through here tomorrow as a show of his stance on mercantile crime!"

"Calm down, Wallen," the man with the parchments said. "The iron shortage scheme was falling apart even before Sarevok took over. It may have ended like this, no matter what. Oh well," he sighed, "I have what I came for. Let's go; you can't carry more than that anyway."

Wallen nodded slowly and slung the bag of coins over his shoulder. "Enjoy your looting," he said in parting. "We're leaving for good."

"I suppose it hasn't occured to any of your inferior minds that they might reveal our presence here?" Edwin asked in a surly tone after the two men had left. "(We should have killed them when we had the chance...)"

"What would they say?" Imoen asked. "'We were looting and some others showed up to loot as well and looting is wrong!'?"

"They did not appear to recognize us," Kivan said. "I believe they are harmless."

"Boo doesn't like it if Minsc charges at silly little merchants for no good reason," Minsc said. "Boo has told Minsc to save the buttkickings for those who really deserve it!"

Edwin raised his hands in exasperation. "Very well! Can we at least get this over and done with as quickly as possible? (And don't blame me if the guards come!)"

A tense silence fell over the group as they made their way past the many lesser offices, alcoves, and meeting rooms that hid behind the columns of pale marble; all of them were empty and ill kept. By the time they reached the spiraling stairs that led to the very top, Ember was wondering if the upper floor might be as abandoned as the rest of the building ; the thought was both comforting and disappointing.

She was proven wrong by the sound of a sultry female voice from what had once been Thaldorn's quarters. "Who goes there?" someone called out; moments later, a woman dressed in a sleeping robe of golden silk appeared in a doorway, looking about as surprised to see Ember and her friends as Ember was to see her. The woman's expression became one of disappointment, closely followed by anger.

"You dare to trespass? Fools!" the woman hissed. "Come, minions, let's make short work of these intruders!"

"Oh, great," Imoen muttered as two hulking ogres stomped out of one of the other rooms.

-.-.-

The fight was long and bloody. The woman was a formidable mage, even in her nightclothes, and managed to strike most of them with her spells before Minsc cut her down. The two ogres fell before she did; hampered as they were by being too large for the rooms they were fighting in, it wasn't too hard for Edwin and Imoen to wear them down with spell attacks without getting struck by their massive clubs. Edwin killed one outright with a searing ball of flames, and Kivan broke the other's neck after Alora blinded it with her sling bullets. Ember used her own sling to reasonably good effect; while she was far from as accurate as Alora, her bullets had been enough to distract the mage, letting Minsc get close to her.

After the fight, the woman's bedchamber was turned into an impromptu infirmary, and her sheets became bandages and washcloths. Ember did not have enough healing spells for everyone, but she did have enough for the worst wounds; the most unpleasant thing by far was waiting for Alora to recover from a fear spell, which had the halfling cowering in a corner and screaming at a chair not to eat her.

It did not take long to find the documents Tamoko had spoken of. Imoen had escaped relatively unscathed, and searched the offices while the rest tended their injuries. She found a treasure trove of documents in the largest office, where what was once a portrait of Rieltar hang in tatters on the wall. The diary Tamoko had spoken of was there, as well as letters from Tazok, from Rieltar, from Davaeorn and a number of others they'd encountered; there were even some letters that appeared to be from the two assassins Tamoko had killed.

Damning as the letters were, they paled in comparison with the contents of the diary. It was written over the course of almost a decade, and contained names, places, details, crudely drawn maps, and Sarevok's innermost thoughts. The woman who'd guarded it was also mentioned; her name had been Cythandria, and from what Ember could gather from reading a few passages, she and Tamoko competed for Sarevok's attention. _No wonder she didn't mention who would be guarding the book,_ she thought grimly as she leafed through the pages that detailed the past few weeks.

Just as Tamoko had said, the diary would clear Ember and her friends from all blame in Candlekeep; Sarevok had written openly and gleefully about murdering Rieltar.

Unfortunately, he had written just as openly and gleefully about his belief that Ember was a Bhaalspawn.


	68. Chapter 67: The Coronation

**Chapter 67: The Coronation**

On the morning of Sarevok's coronation, Kivan entered the palace shortly after dawn, dressed as a courier and carrying a bundle of forged messages that had been provided by the Harpers. Over the course of the morning, a half dozen Harpers arrived in similar disguises, carrying similar false missives that were never delivered to anyone on the inside.

Alora and Imoen set out shortly after noon, once again dressed as servants. They carried large baskets of fresh eggs for the palace kitchen.

Ember, Minsc and Edwin did not arrive at the palace until the late afternoon. Edwin was resplendent in a long, black cloak of a cut that was the latest fashion amongst the nobility, and Ember was dressed in a bright yellow gown with a myriad of folds and puffs and wrinkles and draped panels. It easily concealed the fact that she wore her leather armour and usual clothes underneath it; instead, she looked like she was trying to mask some extra weight by wearing such a complicated gown. A wimple and a fashionably ridiculous hat hid her hair and completed her disguise as Edwin's plump, sullen wife. Minsc's role was that of their bodyguard, and as the pair of fake nobles strode towards the palace gates, the large ranger followed closely behind them, walking with stiff steps. Minsc's face tattoos were covered by makeup, his bald head by a brown wig, and his chainmail suit - the largest that could be found in the city - by a black and yellow tabard. In his hands, he held Ember's quarterstaff instead of his own greatsword, and Boo was hidden in his beltpouch instead of riding on his shoulder.

They were stopped by the gate by two guards, who crossed their halberds in front of the three new arrivals. "Greetings," one of the guards said in a stern yet polite tone. "I assume you've come to the palace for the coronation of Sarevok?"

"Of course," Edwin said.

"Well then, I'll need to see your invitations."

Edwin wordlessly held out the invitations Tamoko had given them.

"Now, let's take a look at these," the guard muttered, inspecting the documents. "Hmmmmm... yes, they do look authentic," he said. "And this man is your servant?"

"Our bodyguard," Ember said.

"With the way things have been lately, my dear wife will not leave the house without him," Edwin told the guard, sounding less than impressed with his 'dear wife'.

"I understand," the guard said, and smiled at Ember. "Things should get better from now on, my lady. All right then, you can all enter." He handed the invitations back to Edwin with a slight bow.

"Thank you. Come, my dear," Edwin said, and led the small group through the giant barred gates, up a short gravelled path, and into the palace itself.

Once inside, servants in white and red livery directed the noble couple and their bodyguard to the main dining hall. Ember quickly spotted Kivan standing quietly beside a bookshelf, leafing through a tome. Alora and Imoen were there as well, pretending to help set food on one of the opulent tables in the south end of the room. The Harpers were standing along the walls, trying to look bored and inconspicuous; their task was made easier by the presence of a bickering group of nobles with bright clothes and loud voices in the middle of the room. At the north end of the hall, she could see a man in a royal blue surcoat and glittering chainmail, standing beside a woman in silvery blue mage robes; they had to be Duke Belt and Duchess Liia, she realized. They were talking with a man in dark armour and a blood red tabard. Sarevok.

Ember led her companions to where Kivan stood; a few minutes later, Alora and Imoen joined them. Hidden weapons were checked under cloaks and folds of clothing. Potions were passed from hand to hand. They moved a few steps closer to the north end of the hall, but not too close; they couldn't risk Sarevok suspecting anything. They waited.

Finally, Duke Belt raised both hands. Throughout the hall, loud conversations ended abruptly. A hush fell over the crowd.

"Now that all of our guests have arrived we can begin with the ceremony that you have all been awaiting," the duke announced.

"As all of you know, this is a special occasion for the city of Baldur's Gate. It is time for a new person to join the ranks of the Grand Dukes. I do not wish to downplay the tragedy that we suffered with the loss of Entar Silvershield, but this is not the time for us to show grief." Duchess Liia added.

"But what of Duke Eltan; has his condition improved at all? If he dies, who will replace him?" one of the nobles asked. A barrage of other questions followed from the rest of the assembly: about the situation with Amn, about the iron supplies, whether or not the Zhentarim were involved. Duke Belt raised his hands a second time.

"All of your questions will be answered in due time, you need not worry," the duke said in a loud, firm voice. "We are here to welcome our new Grand Duke, so perhaps we should get on with it." Duke Belt took a step back and extended his arm towards Sarevok. "Introducing the new Grand Duke, Sarevok Anchev."

Sarevok gave the duke a slight nod of acknowledgement, and stepped forward. "I am honored to be here before such a respected assemblage of noblemen. I accept my new position with full awareness to my new responsibilities, and I will have many of them," he said. "The rumors about Amn's mobilization for war are entirely true, as is the involvement of their Zhentarim cohorts. But do not worry, we are not bereft of a defense. When my father was most recently murdered, I inherited his control over the western branch of the Iron Throne. They have a great deal of stock piled iron, enough for all of our needs, and I have handed this over to the city to do with as you will."

The audience cheered.

"Unfortunately our greatest military commander lies on his death bed, a grievous blow to this city," Sarevok continued. "To insure that the Flaming Fist is well led, I will be assuming control of the mercenary regiment, with permission from its current steward, Angelo." He nodded at a man in Flaming Fist regalia who stood near one of the side entrances.

"Wait one moment, that is not in your power to decide!" Duke Belt protested.

"Shut up, let Sarevok speak!" one of the nobles called out.

"Instead of waiting for the war to come to us, we will take it to them," Sarevok said, speaking louder and with more force than before. "With the Flaming Fist we should be able to easily take the town of Nashkel, and then quickly fortify the mountain pass through the Cloudpeaks." Then, he turned and looked at someone on the right side of the crowd, not far from where Duke Belt and Duchess Liia were standing. "What!?" Sarevok thundered. "Who dares to interrupt!"

There was a cackling hiss, and almost a dozen people turned into doppelgangers. The room erupted in chaos as the doppelgangers ran towards the Grand Dukes while almost everyone else tried to flee the hall in panic.

"Now!" Kivan shouted, drawing a sword from under his cloak. Edwin chanted a haste spell, Imoen flung conjured arrows of acid and fire at the doppelgangers, and Ember cast a spell on one of the potted plants that hung on the wall. The pot broke and fell from the wall as the plant changed into a mass of vines that entangled everyone nearby, dukes and doppelgangers alike. Alora pelted the doppelgangers with sling bullets. Ember undid the fastenings of her gown and handed Minsc the sword she'd hidden under it. He handed her her staff, hefted the sword in his massive hands, and charged at the closest of the doppelgangers. Ember stepped out of the gown and followed him.

The Grand Dukes were also defending themselves; Duke Belt wielded a mace with deadly accuracy, and Duchess Liia was throwing orbs of magic at the doppelgangers closest to her. Flaming Fist soldiers flooded into the room, struggling to get past the fleeing nobles, and the disguised Harpers attacked the doppelgangers with daggers and short swords. The only one who didn't move was Sarevok. He stood perfectly still and watched with a deep scowl as the doppelgangers were cut down before they could even get within reach of their targets.

In a matter of minutes, the fight was over. "Doppelgangers. The nerve of some people, I must say!" Duchess Liia said as she removed some remnants of the enchanted vines from her feet. "Thank you for your assistance, strangers."

"That was close, indeed!" Duke Belt added. He was clutching his shield arm, but didn't appear to be otherwise injured. "It was lucky that such brave souls as yourselves intervened on our behalf."

_Here's our chance!_ Ember ran to Duke Belt. "My lord, my lady, Sarevok is the one who arranged this. He is also the one who had Duke Entar killed and poisoned Duke Eltan. I have the proof here," she said, and held the diary and letters out to the duke.

"These are harsh accusations," the duke said. "Let me see what you have." He accepted the documents from her and began reading one of the letters.

"Angelo!" Sarevok shouted. "Those people are wanted on multiple counts of murder! KILL them!" Ember glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were beginning to glow, and he was staring hatefully at Ember.

"I countermand that order," Duke Belt said. "You will do nothing until I have inspected these documents."

Sarevok laughed. His eyes flared with golden light; they were now just as bright as when he'd killed Gorion.

Then, he charged at Ember.

The Flaming Fist soldiers that stood between Sarevok and Ember were knocked mercilessly aside by his sword; to Ember's horror, one of of the soldiers was all but cut in half by a swordstroke. A few were trying to fight back, but Sarevok shrugged off their blows as though he didn't even notice them. Someone screamed. Ember raised her staff and steeled herself.

"No!" someone screamed. An elderly man with long, grey whiskers ran towards Sarevok and put a hand on his arm.

"Winski?!" Sarevok roared.

"Not yet! Not here!" Winski gasped, and began to cast a spell.

Sarevok glared furiously at the old man, then at Ember. "You and I aren't finished yet! I'll kill you, just as I killed Gorion!" he shouted.

Moments later, both Sarevok and the old man vanished in a distorted whorl of magic.


	69. Chapter 68: The Undercity

**Chapter 68: The Undercity**

Duke Belt wasted no time. As soon as Sarevok and Winski disappeared, he lowered his head in prayer, then whispered a brief incantation with closed eyes. Moments later, he raised his head. "He has been teleported to the east side of the city, somewhere near the Sorcerous Sundries," he said, and turned towards Ember's group. "It will take some time for us to assemble a team to go after him. Your group appears to be ready for combat, and at least one of you has a vested interest in Sarevok, I believe. Would you take up the pursuit, on behalf of the city?"

Kivan glanced questioningly at Ember; she drew a deep breath, then nodded. She never wanted to face Sarevok again, but she doubted he'd give her a choice about the matter; sooner or later, he would come back to kill her. If she didn't follow him now, she'd be forever waiting for the inevitable, only to more than likely be caught unprepared when the time came. She didn't want to live like that. _Besides, he may well have gone to wherever Tazok is hiding. We owe it to Kivan to find out._

"We will do it," Kivan told the Grand Dukes.

"Excellent! You may equip yourselves further from our armoury," Duke Belt said, and signalled to one of the palace guards. "This man will show you."

"We will send a team from the Flaming Fist to follow you as soon as possible," Duchess Liia said. "Go, with the blessings of Baldur's Gate."

-.-.-

It was not difficult to see where Sarevok had gone; one of the doors that led into the thieves' guild had been smashed, and pieces no larger than kindling lay scattered around the entrance. Ember and her companions hurried inside. The thief who'd guarded the smashed door lay on the floor in a pool of blood; his head had been cut off, and lay a few feet away from the body. A trail of bloody footsteps led them to the next room, where three more thieves had been cut down. Two of them were dead, but several people had gathered around a pale-faced woman who was taking swigs from a small flask of healing potion.

One of the thieves approached Ember's group. "What is this?!" he demanded. "You better tell me what you're here about, and right quick, or you're in a lot of trouble!"

"We're hunting Sarevok," Ember replied. "He did this, didn't he?"

"Huge armoured guy," Imoen offered helpfully. "Probably had an old man with him, too."

"Oh, he was here, all right!" The man laughed bitterly. "And he sure was in a hurry. Cut down Jaffen and Poglin, he did, and then he stabbed Voleta!"

"I'll be all right, Denkod," the injured woman said, "he was in too much of a hurry to do a proper job on me."

"He went down there," Denkod said, pointing at a trapdoor in the corner of the room. The trapdoor itself had been ripped off its hinges and tossed aside. "That's the maze, that is. You'd be hard pressed to find a more dangerous place in the city!"

"How's that?" Imoen asked.

"Well," Denkod hesitated, "I shouldn't tell you this, but if you really want to go after him... it's kinda meant as a decoy retreat of sorts. Lead intruders down here and they think it's the way out. Usually you don't see them again after that. It's full o' undead and kept clean by jellies, you see."

"Jellies and undead are no match for Minsc and Boo and friends! Thank you, little thieves, and step aside! Heroes are coming through!" Minsc bellowed, and started down the steps below the trapdoor.

"Is there anything else you can tell us?" Ember asked.

Denkod shook his head. "Sorry. I ain't ever been down there."

"Just you be sure to give that Sarevok a shank o' steel!" Voleta called out after the group as they followed Minsc through the trapdoor.

The maze was a seemingly neverending labyrinth of narrow corridors that were teeming with traps and slimes, and it was not long before Ember and her companions encountered undead creatures as well. They were mostly skeletons, shambling aimlessly along the winding pathways, and the deeper they got into the maze, the more there seemed to be of them. It was not hard to see how the maze had earned its reputation, but the journey through it was made easier by the very fact that they were following Sarevok; several of the traps Imoen and Alora came across were already disarmed, and a trail of crushed slimes and dismantled skeletons marked Sarevok's path far clearer than the scuffled dust ever could have.

"Are we even certain this is not a false trail?" Edwin asked as they stepped around a pile of bones that'd clearly been a giant skeleton not long before.

"The footprints speak clearly, and he has not had time to create a diversion," Kivan replied. "It is a wonder we have not caught up with him yet."

"He is strong," Ember said quietly. "He and that mage probably destroyed this skeleton in moments."

Most of the time, the walls were uniformly smooth, but at one point, the wall on one side had crumbled, worn down by time and moisture. A gap had formed, revealing an ancient-looking part of the sewers.

"Look, footprints! Another way out, it must be! Ooh, isn't this exciting?" Alora exclaimed, pointing at the gap. The bottom edge showed clear signs of being walked across.

"(I am just thankful it doesn't reek as bad as the main sewers,)" Edwin grumbled.

"It must be part of an older sewer system, and not really used anymore," Imoen said. "I wonder where it ends up?"

"Boo says he wants to show little Kivan something," Minsc stated. The two rangers kneeled over a muddied spot near the gap in the wall, where several faded footprints were leading deeper into the maze.

"Half-ogre," Kivan muttered as he stood up.

"Tazok?" Ember asked.

"Possibly."

The only signs of undead beyond that point were small heaps of dust-covered bones, but even without evidence of recent fighting, the trail remained more than clear enough for Minsc and Kivan to follow. The footprints of Sarevok and the old man were now intermingled with others, marking a path through the maze that'd clearly been in use for some time. They followed the path through twists and turns and finally down a long, straight corridor with a doorway of carved stone at the very end. What doors there might have once been there had long since rotted, and a chilly draft came from the doorway.

The mage that had teleported Sarevok out of the Ducal palace lay dead on the doorstep.

"What happened to the evil old mage?" Minsc asked. "Boo is confused."

"Sarevok happened to him," a soft voice said. Tamoko appeared in the doorway and stepped carefully around the dead mage. "Sarevok wished him to act as a backup if all else failed, but he wanted Winski to kill the Grand Dukes, not effect an escape. Those that would be gods do not consider failure with any probability, after all. Sarevok no longer needs his old mentor, and cast him aside for his lapse in judgement." She bent down and touched the dead man's cheek. "All he wanted was to partake in the glory he foresaw for Sarevok."

Ember stepped forward. "And what about yourself?" she asked quietly.

Tamoko's shoulders sagged. "You have... you have done what you must, I suppose. Sarevok has learned of my treachery. He has forsaken me, left me to die in your path," Tamoko said. "I must fight you to regain his trust, his... attention. And so I stand before you, knowing that if I defeat you, he will continue his plans elsewhere and I shall lose him, and if you defeat me, you shall go on to kill him. He will not yield to either of us. I have... I have no choice." She slowly drew her blade and raised it in a battle stance.

"But you do have a choice," Ember protested. "You don't have to do this."

"There may always be choice, but the choosing has become unbearable. I have but two duties, and both leave me little hope. No, young one, I must face you now."

"I will not harm you," Ember said, planting the end of her staff firmly on the ground. "You are not my enemy."

"You must! I stand before you, I block your path!" Tamoko cried, her voice rising with despair. "I am an obstacle that holds you back! You will free... you will fight me!"

"Tamoko, is he truly worth this? Is he worth throwing your life away? You wanted to stop his plans, so why are you trying to die for them?"

"He... he was, once," Tamoko whispered. "But now..."

"I cannot free you. Only you can."

Tamoko raised her head and looked at Ember. "You... you are not so alike after all. He would not have hesitated for an instant. Perhaps... perhaps it is more than his blood that makes him the way he is."

"He could have been different, if he had wished to be. You should know that better than any," Ember said.

"But he does not wish to be different. I... I have been a fool." Tamoko laughed harshly, even as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "There is a temple in the Undercity. He hoped to one day perform a ritual there that would cause him to ascend to godhood, and now it is his last refuge. He awaits you there. Go! Your path is clear." She sheathed her sword with a decisive movement. "One last word in passing: beware of the blindness of those who would follow, and the damnable lure of those who would lead. A fool I was, and others are still. Ready yourself for the fire to come." The woman bowed slightly with folded hands and walked away down the corridor, into the thieves' maze.

"I hope she'll be all right," Imoen said as soon as Tamoko had vanished from view.

"She should have left him sooner," Edwin stated. "(That's what I would have done.)"

"I think that's easier said than done, Edwin," Ember said, and peered into the darkness beyond the doorway. Edwin and Imoen's magelights could not penetrate far into the murky cavern; it was far larger than any cave she'd seen before. She could easily believe it held a remnant of a city. A long dead city.

_There'll be daylight and fresh air again afterwards,_ Ember told herself. _No point in putting this off._ She offered a quick prayer to the Lady, and turned back to the others. "So. Is everyone ready to go find Sarevok?" she asked, sounding far more cheerful than she felt.

A chorus of affirmatives answered her question.

"Then let's get this over with." Holding her staff ready, Ember stepped through the stone doorway, leading her companions down into the city that once was.


	70. Chapter 69: Sarevok's Destiny

**Chapter 69: Sarevok's Destiny**

A temple stood in the middle of the ruins of the Undercity. Every structure around it had been reduced to crumbled walls and poorly outlined foundations, but the temple was still whole; the roof was sound, the walls were even, the gates were untarnished. It alone in the entire Undercity had withstood the passage of time.

Following the light from the numerous torches that had been placed around the temple, Kivan led his companions through the darkness straight to it. The outer gates of wrought iron were guarded by a hulking figure, its silhouette clearly outlined by one of the torches.

It was Tazok.

Kivan inhaled sharply. Finally, after so many months, his enemy stood before him. Tazok was peering into the darkness around the temple in a manner that suggested he was looking for intruders, but there was something halfhearted about his stance; Kivan knew the glare from the torches would prevent the half-ogre from seeing anything outside of the illuminated area. Thus, instead of being the perfect guard, Tazok was the perfect target. And his fate was in Kivan's hands.

Few beings deserved to die more than Tazok did. The brute deserved to die in a manner exactly as slow and painful as the death he had inflicted upon her.

Kivan notched an arrow. It was an arrow of piercing, one of the few he and Imoen had retrieved from the armoury at the Ducal palace. He raised his bow, aimed it at Tazok, and waited.

In order to give Tazok the death he richly deserved, Kivan would have to become like him. He no longer considered that a worthwhile pursuit.

The moment arrived. Tazok yawned, stretching his arms and opening his foul maw of a mouth as wide as he could.

"For Deheriana," Kivan whispered, and shot the enchanted arrow directly into the open mouth. The piercing spells placed upon it helped it penetrate flesh and bone; the arrow did not stop until it was halfway out of the back of the half-ogre's skull.

Tazok's body fell noiselessly to the ground.

-.-.-

The inner chamber of the temple was large and sparsely furnished. The walls and floors were the colour of dried blood, and showed few signs of wear or fading, but in their flawlessness there was a distinct absence of life; the protective and life enhancing spells that Ember had cast on the group felt insignificant, almost futile, compared with the weight of death that hung over the room. Part of her wondered if the room might have been painted with actual blood.

A giant symbol of Bhaal, a relief of a golden skull surrounded by glittering teardrops, adorned the middle of the floor. A golden throne and an equally golden sacrificial altar stood at the far end of the room. Sarevok was standing in front of the altar. He had removed the red tabard he'd worn at the palace, and most of his face was hidden within the spiked helmet he'd worn the night he killed Gorion; the piercing glow of his eyes was the only visible feature. He'd already drawn his sword, and held it in a way that suggested he was patiently waiting for a foe to arrive so that a bloodbath could commence. _And here I am,_ Ember thought with a shiver.

Sarevok laughed cruelly. "You are indeed family," he shouted across the chamber. "No other would have dared to oppose me in person. Of course, it will not matter in the end. Ultimately I will prevail, and a new era will be born unto the Realms."

"You are mad!" Ember shouted back. "What do you hope to gain by all this?"

"Is it not obvious, little sister? I will raise the power of Bhaal from the ashes. With the divine blood that flows through these veins I shall assume control over that which he so foolishly lost! I shall BECOME Bhaal!" Sarevok roared. "The streets will run red with blood when my work is finished! And you, you who would stop me; you will die here tonight!"

As if on cue, two men in crimson and black robes stepped out of a doorway behind the throne. Sarevok raised his sword. "Come, face me! Face the new LORD OF MURDER!" he roared, and charged.

_This is it. There'll be no mage to whisk him away this time._ A strange calm fell over Ember as she waited the eternally long seconds it took for him to reach her; seconds that seemed to pass even more slowly as Edwin cast a haste spell on them all. A jet of fire shot towards Sarevok, striking him in the chest, but he shrugged it off and continued unabated towards them, the fire in his eyes burning brighter than the spell had.

Behind Sarevok, the two robed men were beginning to cast spells. "Get the mages!" Ember shouted, tightening her grip on her staff. Everyone but Minsc did as she asked; the giant ranger positioned himself beside Ember instead.

Then Sarevok was upon them. His first blow was powerful enough to almost knock Ember off her feet; she only barely managed to deflect it away from her left arm and shoulder. Minsc roared with anger and swung wildly at Sarevok, buying Ember enough time to regain her composure, which had been severely rattled by the forcefulness of the attack. He was frighteningly strong, far stronger than Ember or even Minsc, but how much of that was because of his Bhaal essence?

Ember closed her eyes for a moment and drew upon the essence in herself. Fire coursed through her, from fingertips to toenails. She felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end as surges of raw power filled her limbs. She flexed her fingers slightly, and rammed the end of her staff into Sarevok's shoulder. Her blow jarred his movements, preventing him from landing a vicious strike on Minsc, and visibly dented his spiked pauldron. Sarevok eyes flared with anger, and he slashed at her. She narrowly dodged the massive blade and swung at his knee, giving his armour a second dent. Minsc followed with a strike at his other knee, and now it was Sarevok that was almost thrown off balance.

"Impudence!" Sarevok roared. Ember stared defiantly at him as she deflected another blow with her staff. Any fear and uncertainty she might have felt earlier was gone, replaced by the focus and energy that came with being deeply involved in close combat, where nothing mattered but herself and her opponent. It would almost have felt like the pure joy of fighting if not for the roaring of her blood, but she refused to let it break her concentration. The taint in her wanted Sarevok dead, she wanted to live; for the moment, their desires coincided. _It can enjoy this fight all it wants, as long as __**I**__ remain in charge,_ she thought as she struck Sarevok's arm, dislodging the damaged pauldron.

Their luck turned when Sarevok struck Minsc hard in the chest with an armoured fist. As Minsc staggered backwards, Sarevok slashed at him with his sword, cutting a deep gash across Minsc's arm and chest. "Boo!" Minsc gasped, and fell to his knees, clutching the horrible wound.

Sarevok immediately lunged at Ember. His strength was undiminished; it was all she could do to block and counter his attacks, and nervousness she had not allowed herself to feel returned. Sarevok was too strong, too fast, and as she awkwardly blocked a particularly ferocious blow, her staff broke in two, showering both of them in splinters. Ember stumbled and fell to the floor. The sword immediately came around for a second strike, aimed at her chest. She threw herself out of the way, and the sword struck her leg instead. Pain exploded down the length of her thigh.

With a harsh laugh, Sarevok picked Ember up by the neck and slammed her into the wall. Small bursts of pain shot through her chest as ribs snapped. Then, he threw her to the floor again. She landed on her injured leg, and almost passed out from agony. She crawled to her knees, her breath coming in short wheezes, and used her gift to partially close the gash on her thigh, fully aware of the futility of that gesture. He was going to kill her now, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

"It ends now, sister," Sarevok jeered, "in a manner ...befitting our heritage." He raised his sword over his head for the final blow.

An arrow pierced Sarevok's unprotected shoulder, closely followed by a cluster of magic missiles. Distracted at the crucial moment, Sarevok roared with fury and turned towards his new attacker. He took a few steps away from Ember, but was suddenly surrounded by a half dozen or so dazed orcs in leather armour. Ember turned just enough to see Imoen staring at Sarevok. Her bow lay in front of her, her hands were glowing, and Edwin stood behind her with a wand of monster summoning in his hands. Beyond them, Kivan and Alora were still fighting Sarevok's two mages.

Sarevok shouted a curse and cut down two orcs with one stroke. Imoen raised her hands and fired a new round of magic missiles at Sarevok, striking higher up on his shoulder, closer to the neck. The damaged armour warped and tore under the impact, and half of the projectiles struck flesh. Sarevok stumbled. More missiles followed, all of them striking his exposed neck. Sarevok collapsed with blood gushing from his throat. Imoen slumped backwards; Edwin had to support her to keep her from falling.

"Who..." Sarevok gargled, staring confusedly at Imoen. "How..." The light faded from his eyes, and he lay still.

For a few brief moments, nobody in the room moved.

Sarevok's body began to glow, brighter and brighter, and crumbled into motes of shimmering dust that drifted away on an unseen wind, leaving only his sword and his armour behind.

Ember fainted.

-.-.-

When Ember regained consciousness, Imoen was kneeling over her and dribbling a healing potion into her mouth.

"Minsc? Is he all right?" Ember asked.

"Kivan and Alora are giving him healing potions. He'll be fine and Boo wasn't hurt at all. He's pretty happy about that."

"And you?"

"I'm fine, too. Eddie said I drew too hard on the magic and that I'm not supposed to be able to make the missiles be that powerful yet and he's made me promise to not try anything like that again until I am properly ready," Imoen said with a small grin.

Ember glanced around the room. Sarevok's mages were both dead. Sarevok's armour lay empty on the floor.

"We won," she whispered.

"Yep."

_No more assassins. No more iron crisis. No more wondering who killed Father. No more being hunted._ "It's over."

Imoen squeezed Ember's hand. "Yep."

The two girls embraced each other, laughing and crying at the same time.


	71. Chapter 70: Peace Restored

**Chapter 70: Peace Restored**

A tenday after Sarevok's death, the Grand Dukes held a party for Ember and her friends in Duke Eltan's mansion. The duke was well on his way to recovery after being poisoned by Sarevok; the party was his first public appearance after the illness.

The city was starting to settle down again. Emissaries had been sent to Amn to restore the relations between the countries. A delegation had arrived from the Iron Throne headquarters in Sembia with orders to investigate why they'd lost contact with the Baldur's Gate branch; as soon as they had learned what had happened, they had shut down all operations in the region. New supplies of clean iron were finally being shipped from the Nashkel mines, and the two remaining merchant costers, the Seven Suns and the Merchant's League, were doing their best to pick up the supply lines that had been abandoned by the Iron Throne.

A Harper courier had arrived from Candlekeep the day before with a letter for Ember and Imoen. It was from Khalid and Jaheira, who reported that the doppelgangers had all been dealt with, the keep was safe, and they were busy helping with removing the dead from the old catacombs. A list of the victims was enclosed. A half dozen sages - poor old Phlydia was one of them - were on it, along with two of Winthrop's maids and several Watchers, but Winthrop himself and most of their friends were still alive. The girls had feared that all were killed, and read the list with a mixture of sadness and immense relief.

Sarevok's cold, calculated detailing of how the doppelgangers in his hire were to infiltrate Candlekeep and murder Rieltar and Brunos was more than enough to exonerate Ember and her companions for the crime, and he had also been helpful enough to write about how he'd instructed his hirelings to implicate Ember. The diary and the accompanying documents were still being scrutinized by lawyers, and almost every page yielded a new crime; Sarevok would have been sentenced quite harshly if he'd lived. _If he'd been captured, that is,_ Ember mused. Her involvement in this had only started because he'd tried to kill her; what would her life had been like if he hadn't? How would the world have changed?

Only a few of Sarevok's associates remained. Angelo had been arrested on charges of corruption, and a handful of doppelgangers had been discovered amongst the Flaming Fist soldiers, but the rest were already dead. There was a warrant for Tamoko's arrest, but she had vanished without a trace after she left the Undercity.

"I wonder what happened to Tamoko," Ember said to Kivan. The two of them sat on one of the many benches that lined Duke Eltan's hall; Minsc sat beside them on another bench, with Boo dozing in his hands. Dinner was over, and the dance had begun, but Ember always felt more comfortable watching than participating, and her leg not being completely healed yet was only another reason to sit it out.

"She lost the one she loved in the cruelest manner possible," Kivan said. "She will not forget easily. One can only hope she will do nothing foolish."

"It is good that we didn't have to teach the pretty lady not to be evil," Minsc mused. "Boo says she already learned, and that maybe she'll be happy again for herself some day."

"Perhaps she will," Kivan said, smiling at Minsc. He'd become far less reluctant to smile after the battle, Ember had noticed; a heavy burden had been lifted from him with Tazok's death, and it showed in both his manners and the softened lines of his face. It made her happy to see him like this.

Ember smoothed down her green skirt and let her eyes follow some of the numerous dancers that filled the floor. Tonight, they were all heroes, but that would change as soon as news got out of her heritage. Many details of Sarevok's diary were already being discussed in inns and bars across town, and it was only a matter of time before what he wrote about her would be amongst those details. She wanted to be out of town before that happened.

"Did I tell you Edwin offered to take me and Imoen to Thay?" she said. "He said it's the best place to further her magical education."

"No!" Minsc cried, sitting upright with a suddenness that woke Boo. "Minsc cannot let his witches go to that evil place! And the evil wizard knows that!"

Ember reached for Minsc's arm and gave it a reassuring pat. "Don't worry, we already told him we don't want to go there." Minsc calmed down as quickly as he'd become alarmed, and tasked himself with rocking Boo back to sleep.

"Do you know what you will do yet?" Kivan asked. "I cannot go to Shilmista if I know I leave you in uncertainty."

"I'm not really sure," Ember admitted, "but I have some ideas. I think we'll leave town in about a tenday. Alora said she'll travel with us until Nightal - there's someone in Gullykin she wants to see again - and Edwin hasn't said if he's staying or going. We can't go to Candlekeep, but I don't really think I'd want to, after what happened. Maybe we'll just winter in Beregost or Nashkel and think about our options. And maybe I'll visit one of the local groves for a while."

"Minsc is going to show little Ember what all the animals do when winter comes!" Minsc proclaimed.

"We'll be fine, I'm sure," Ember said. "There'll be at least three of us, and we'll take care of each other."

Kivan smiled again. "That is reassuring," he said. "You are in good hands as Minsc's wards."

"That we are," Ember said, stroking the soft fur on Boo's back.

-.-.-

Across the room, Edwin sat beside a bookcase. One of the volumes lay in his lap; every now and then, he turned a few pages, but his attention was mostly on the dancefloor, where Imoen was twirling around with some Flaming Fist soldier (the 'cute' one that'd been posted at this house before, he thought). "Such a waste," he muttered, glaring daggers at the back of the soldier's head.

A waste, indeed! Her magical skills were potentially unsurpassed (except by his own, of course), and where better to teach her how to fulfill her potential than to take her to Thay? As far as he was concerned, a mind that could accomplish what hers could was a far finer prize than any Bhaalspawn... but she had refused his offer. She wouldn't like it in Thay, she'd said. It'd be too dull and dry, she'd said, and she wouldn't like the strictness. He knew how bored she'd been when she took classes in Candlekeep so it stood to reason that she'd be even more bored with an even stricter regimen like the Thayvian one, she'd said. And Ember wouldn't like it there, and let's not forget Minsc, she'd said (personally, he'd love to forget the large oaf's existence).

Why did she not understand what he was offering? It was her chance to shine amongst the greatest! Who knew what might become of her otherwise? (Not that his own teaching methods weren't producing excellent results, of course, but he was certain she'd appreciate a more orderly and systemized approach to magic if she'd only give it a chance...)

Alora sauntered past him, then turned and gave him a stern look. "Moping, you are!" she said accusingly.

"I am most certainly not," Edwin replied with icy dignity.

She sighed. "Why don't you just tell her?"

"(What?) Tell who what?"

"Imoen, silly! Why don't you tell her that you like her?"

"(Where the diminutive simian gets her ideas, I'll never know...)" Edwin fumed. Alora giggled at him and headed towards one of the refreshment tables.

Still fuming, Edwin settled back in his chair (which was remarkably comfortable). The annoying halfling couldn't be more wrong; he most certainly did not like Imoen, as she had put it! No, indeed! All he saw in Imoen was an astonishing mind, the only intellect he had ever encountered that could possibly rival his own, (her incredible hair,) and all he sought to do was to help her advance herself and avoid mistakes such dallying with others when her time was much better spent...

...with him.

Normally, he would do his best to destroy a rival (an equal), not nurture him (or her).

Did he...?

"(No. No. No!)" Edwin muttered, and glanced at Imoen and the soldier again. She was smiling and chatting to the soldier. There was a burning, hollow, painful sensation in Edwin's chest.

It was not the sensation of annoyance (he should know; he was much accustomed to it). It was something entirely different. It was jealousy.

He couldn't believe it.

How in all the Hells could the great Edwin Odesseiron **ever** have fallen in love with a whimsical, barbaric slip of a girl who took at least as much delight in teasing and tormenting him as she took in magecraft, who refused to see reason on so many things, who was too fond of amusements and pastimes to willingly dedicate herself wholly to the pursuit of knowledge, who was little more than an untrained archer when he met her, who was sorely lacking the breeding and upbringing and manners that characterized proper Thayvian ladies, ladies whom he would be able to take his pick of once he achieved his destiny? It was intolerable!

Nonetheless, it was true.

Edwin got up from his chair and walked to a refreshment table on the opposite end of the room from where Alora was.

He desperately needed some wine.

-.-.-

The group saw Kivan off the following morning. It would be a long journey; even though he was to travel with a caravan at least as far as Athkatla, it would be winter by the time he reached the forests of Shilmista.

"You must be looking forward to going home," Ember said as they all walked through the city gates. The caravan waited just outside.

"Aye," Kivan replied. "It has been many years... I have not been there since I lost my Deheriana. Our home will be empty without her, but it will hold memories. Happy memories."

"They're the best kind," Imoen said.

"Our dwelling may not be there; if it is not, I will rebuild it. I will restore her long neglected garden." A light filled Kivan's eyes as he spoke. "I will live my life in her honour until the day I go to meet her again."

Ember squeezed his hand. There was a lump in her throat, but she would have been at a loss for words even without it. Behind her, Alora was gently sniffling.

"Boo will miss you," Minsc said, "and so will Minsc. It is always sad when heroes are parted."

"You are a great man, Minsc," Kivan said, taking the giant's hand. "I know they will be safe with you. Guard them well." Minsc nodded, and burst into tears.

"Your company has been fairly tolerable," Edwin said.

"As has yours," Kivan said with a slight grin.

"You take care of yourself!" Imoen exclaimed, and flung herself around Kivan's neck. Alora followed suit and hugged his legs.

"I will," Kivan said, putting an arm around each of the girls.

After Imoen and Alora disentangled themselves from Kivan, Ember stepped towards him. "Thank you, for everything," she said quietly.

"You assisted me as much as I did you," Kivan replied, and gave Ember a gentle embrace. "May the gods be kind to you. Farewell."

"Farewell, my friend," Ember said with a tearful smile.

A chorus of goodbyes followed Kivan on his way towards the waiting caravan master.


	72. Chapter 71: Never the Same Again

**Chapter 71: Never the Same Again**

Several tendays passed as the group slowly travelled down the Sword Coast. Ember and Minsc left the group for about a tenday; they went into Cloakwood to visit the druids there, while Imoen and Edwin and Alora waited at the Friendly Arm Inn. There, they heard two paladins call for more adventurers to come with them and fight a monster that was hiding in the ruins of Durlag's Tower, where it had killed a group of tourists. When Ember and Minsc returned, they all signed up for that, joining two dozen or so others.

Imoen was excited to see the tower and all its tricks and traps when they first arrived there, but as they moved down through its many levels, they saw more and more of the tragedy that'd happened there, and her excitement gave way to sadness. It was especially dismaying to travel through the living quarters of Durlag and his family; those rooms were riddled with doppelgangers who were still running around mimicking the family, just as they'd done when they'd killed them. It felt very good to destroy the doppelgangers.

Now the tower was cleared of both demon and doppelgangers, and the poor ghosts that had flitted through it for so long were at rest. They'd even rescued some other adventurers on the way; a young girl and an even younger boy who were all that remained of a party that'd set out from Ulgoth's Beard. The two paladins who'd originally assembled the large group took it upon themselves to escort the girl and boy home, and Imoen and her friends went with them as far as Gullykin. A large troupe of smiling halfling youngsters welcomed them back to the village, and Alora greeted each and every one of them with hugs and smiles and happy talking, leaving Imoen to wonder exactly which of them was the one Alora had wanted to return for. It took Imoen three days to find out for sure, but at the farewell feast for Imoen and Ember and Edwin and Minsc, Alora spent the entire evening dancing with the blacksmith's son, a shy boy with black hair and pretty brown eyes. Imoen asked about him the next morning as they said goodbye, and Alora giggled and whispered that she thought she wanted to marry him.

Then the four of them left the village to go spend the winter in Beregost. Imoen looked forward to that; they could go to High Hedge and get more stuff from Thalantyr, there were lots of fun little stores in Beregost, and it'd be the first time she'd get to celebrate the Feast of the Moon outside of Candlekeep.

On their last night on the road before reaching Beregost, they set up camp in a small clearing. Once the fire was ready and Minsc finished assembling the bits and pieces needed for a rabbit stew in a cooking pot, he left Imoen in charge of the stew and took Ember with him to practice combat in a nearby field. Ember had a scimitar now instead of a staff, and she and Minsc trained every evening so she'd become more familiar with it.

Imoen took her culinary responsibilities quite seriously, and gave the rabbit stew a good stir every few minutes. The smell of food was becoming more and more enticing. "It won't be long now," she told Edwin, who was sitting on a tree stump behind her and studying his notes about the Nether Scroll. He spent almost every spare moment looking over those notes, and a few days ago he'd told Imoen that the Nether Scroll was precisely the kind of artifact he'd been sent to find. She thought it was awfully convenient that his artifact had been the topic of the very book they'd used to enter Candlekeep, but hadn't said anything about it. Yet.

"Come with me to Thay," Edwin said abruptly.

Imoen sighed. "The answer's still no, Eddie," she said, and stirred the pot again. "And what about that scroll of yours?"

"I can study my notes in Thay as well as I can here (if not better)," Edwin said, "and I hoped you might have come to your senses."

"I like my senses the way they are," Imoen replied testily. _He can ask all he wants, but he doesn't have to be so rude about it!_

"(I just don't understand her!) Why do you insist upon limiting yourself like this?"

"Because I like it here, silly!"

"And what is there here that you could not have in Thay (other than an exorbitant amount of inferior manners and simian intellects)?" Edwin all but shouted. "Why don't you see that I would hand you the world on a silver platter if only you would stop clinging to this barbaric territory!"

_What?!_ Imoen turned slowly and looked at Edwin. "Um, why would you want to do that?"

"Do what?" Edwin asked. He looked a bit like a trapped animal.

"Hand me the world on a silver platter."

"I, um... ah..." Edwin gritted his teeth. "Because you are ...special. Unique. I have never encountered anyone with your talents, or with a mind of your caliber. You deserve better than this squalor. Yes. You deserve the best. What I am offering you is no less than to share in my grand destiny." He glared nervously at her.

Imoen stared at him. He had to be joking!

But he wasn't. He couldn't possibly look so angry and so scared at the same time if he wasn't dead serious.

Edwin was in love with her.

Or, at the very least, wanted her.

_Why me?_ her mind protested. _I'm nothing like those concubines he used to talk about!_

Imoen bit her lip. It didn't really matter why he wanted her. She wanted someone who was nice and sweet, like Alora's boyfriend. She didn't want someone she couldn't talk with unless it was about magic. She didn't want someone who'd let her share their power; she wanted someone she could snuggle with. She did not want someone like Edwin Odesseiron.

He was still glaring at her. She had to tell him something. But what was she supposed to say?

"I'm sorry, Edwin," she said quietly.

The glare on Edwin's face deepened into a full scowl. "Fine," he snarled, and grabbed his pack and headed out of the clearing.

"Where are you going?" Imoen called out after him.

"Somewhere where I can think!" he shouted back.

-.-.-

Ember and Minsc returned to the camp, sweaty and sore from training, to find a very unhappy Imoen and a slightly scorched stew.

"What's happened? Where's Edwin?" Ember asked, looking around. There was no trace of the wizard.

"Did the evil wizard upset little Imoen?" Minsc demanded.

"He asked me to come to Thay again," Imoen said. "Then he said he wanted me to share in his grand destiny."

"He what?!" Ember exclaimed, staring at Imoen in disbelief.

"Yeah, he really did say that," Imoen said miserably. "I turned him down and he got angry and went into the woods to think and he took all his stuff with him and I don't know if he's coming back at all!"

"And here I thought he only had eyes for Thayvian ladies," Ember muttered, shaking her head.

"Well, he seems to think I deserve better than the horrible squalor I've spent my entire life in, so I guess he likes my magic skills enough to overlook my bad upbringing," Imoen said with a tinge of bitterness. Ember gave her a tight hug.

"The evil wizard likes you?" Minsc looked puzzled. "Then he shouldn't make you sad! Boo will have to teach him some manners!"

"No, it's all right," Imoen said. "He's just being a bufflehead, as usual, and... I upset him, too. But you know what he's like in the forest, and it's getting dark!"

"Boo says there is snow in the air, too. Minsc can go look for him," Minsc suggested.

There was a sound of snapping twigs.

"That must be him coming back," Ember said, turning in the direction of the sound. "It'll be all right, Immy, just wait and see. He'll understand."

It was not Edwin who emerged from between the trees. Instead, six armoured men rushed into the camp.

The last thing Ember saw was a cloaked figure who stood at the edge of the clearing, looking straight at her.

The figure's face was completely hidden by a leather mask.

-.-.-

Edwin stamped through the woods, cursing vehemently in Thayvian.

He had thought that nothing could make him feel worse than he had felt for the past month or so. He'd been wrong.

How could she have refused him like that? Who would ever offer her more than he had? Was she really that great a fool? Well, she could go dally with her little farmhands and lackeys if that was what she wanted. He didn't care. (No, not one bit!) And one day, she'd realize what she'd turned down, and she'd be sorry!

There was a fallen tree ahead of Edwin. He sat down on it with a heavy sigh.

Now what?

He'd wasted precious time in trying to convince the girls (especially that ungrateful little...) to come to Thay with him, but it was not too late. He could go seek out Denak right now. It probably wouldn't take him more than a day or two to find his superiors and report the location of a Bhaalspawn. Yes, he could send them straight to the Jovial Juggler, and even though he wouldn't be granted the extra glory he'd hoped for, he would have fulfilled his mission.

He'd be able to go home to civilization.

And he'd never have to see **her** again.

Then it occurred to him: he never would see her again. They would never take a barbarian to Thay for no good reason. They might bring her as a means to make Ember cooperate, but it was far more likely that they would kill her, along with the Rasheman idiot. A chill went down his spine. Yes, they would do just that if Ember didn't come willingly (and he knew she wouldn't), and if he were to tell them about Imoen's talents, they'd only be even more likely to kill her, just to prevent her from using her talents against them.

"(I am trapped!)" Edwin moaned.

As he sat on the tree, trying desperately to think of a way out of this mess (shouldn't the greatest mind of all times be able to solve such a problem?), it began to snow. He pulled his robes and winter cloak tighter around him. The whiteness in the air was disorienting to look at. He closed his eyes.

He woke up a short while later (he hoped), feeling cold. It was no longer snowing, but the ground was covered with a layer of white. He picked up his belongings and headed back to the campsite.

He could not bear to risk Imoen's death (regardless of her folly, that would be a travesty beyond compare!), so he could not report Ember to Denak. He would have to find another Bhaalspawn to report. Meanwhile, he would travel with the others at least as far as Beregost; he'd have all winter to decide if he should go on his separate way. And he would not mention any of this to Imoen ever again.

It was difficult to traverse the forest, rendered unfamiliar as it was by the dark sky and the snowy ground, but Edwin's sense of direction was impeccable, and it was not too long before he was near the campsite again. It was remarkably quiet; the others were probably asleep already. He pushed aside a few wet branches, and entered the clearing.

The campsite was empty.

The tree stump he had sat on was there, the location of the campfire was discernible as a wet, dark spot in the snow, but there was no trace of Imoen, Ember, the giant fool, or any of their belongings. They might as well never have been there.

They had abandoned him.

Edwin dropped his pack and screamed with rage.

** -.- END OF PART 1 -.-  
**


End file.
